Chuck & The GreenEyed Girl
by Armadilloi
Summary: It's done. For APR.
1. Prophets and Profits

Chuck vs Green Eyed Girl

Prologue & Chapter 1

_Premise: Chuck is in a committed relationship when Larkin sends him the email and intersect. This prologue and first chapter sets and details the characters and the development of their relationship and their interactions with related characters. I wrote parts of it with help for the 3Js and they're probably the better parts**. This will start out dark and grow into the light with incredible Charah and minimal physical damage to the hero. **_

_**The characters of Casey and Walker will be somewhat different than in the show. More realistic. And if you like Casey, you won't like this one. **_

_I may change this to M later. Right now I'm off to Biloxi, Tampa and the Keys. I'm not running the gennie much to conserve fuel so updates will depend upon access to power and fuel. I hope to have at least 5 chapters in the can by the time I update in Marathon. No hurry tho, I've got nothing but time, new sails and fair winds and ya'll have better things to do. _

_This is totally AU so don't complain if the timelines shift. And don't be upset with no responses to flames. WiFi doesn't work from 100 miles offshore._

Armor-Plated-Rat  


* * *

**Prologue**

Chuck Bartowski towered over the love of his life. She was barely 5'1" tall, with delicate AmerAsian features that had first ensnared him.

Her mother and father met while her Dad was in SE Asia with a government agency. They defied the convention of the times and fell in love and married. Two years after they returned to the States they had a daughter Lin Xhiao Kimble, Americanized to Lynn.

She did not like Chuck Bartowski at first. She thought he looked down at her, ignoring that unless he was sitting, he _did_ look down on her. She thought he was adopting a superior air because he'd attended Stanford. She'd gone to 2 years at City College until things fell apart at home and she had to get a job. And here _he_ was at the BuyMore. And here _she_ was at the BuyMore. Here _they_ were at the BuyMore. He had hired her to work as a Nerd Herder and he was her boss. He was the perfect gentleman, respectful and considerate and caring without being all California-group-huggy about it.

Her attitude had changed when she'd returned from a business server corruption repair call in tears. He led her back into the break room and listened to her story. The assistant manager of an important customer, a sporting goods chain store, had made advances towards her, with improper touching and suggestions. Chuck drove over to the store, confronted the assistant manager in front of his boss. The butthead had made some crack about Asian Snatch and Chuck had punched him in the mouth and told the manager that his BuyMore Maintenance Plan was revoked and he'd send him a pro rata refund.

He drove back to the BuyMore, told Big Mike what had happened and what he'd done and fully expected to be fired for 'canceling a customer using his fist'. Big Mike shook his hand, told him there was no place for racism or sexual harassment and sent him back to his station. Chuck never mentioned it to her, but Big Mike did.

"That Bartowski is a piece of work. Canceled that sporting goods store with his fist. Good man." Big Mike looked down at her, "A really fine man. Don't you worry about working for Chuck. He'll always do the right thing, no matter how much it hurts."

The next week he'd hired Anna Wu and she thought she'd finally figured him out. He had an AsiaGirl fetish Something from his past; maybe he'd seen too many Chuck Norris films, Jackie Chan movies, whatever. She just vowed to stay away from him.

A few weeks passed and she noticed that her supervisor had become quieter, a little withdrawn and was spending significant time in the cage voluntarily knocking out everyone else's backlogged work. He didn't complain but rather seemed to appreciate the solitude. Not even his friend, Morgan, seemed able to crack the shell he was building around himself and each day the shell seemed to thicken.

The usual antics of Jeff and Lester seemed unimportant and even Big Mike seemed concerned enough to emerge from his fortress of solitude and doughnuts and call a meeting of the Herd.

"Ok, people, something's up with Bartowski and I want to know what it is. He's working his butt off for no reason at all. He's not due for a review or salary adjustment, there are no positions open here to which he might aspire. So what is going on with Chuck? Is it drugs? Woman problems? Trouble at home? Surely one of you has enough respect and affection for the man who covers your ass and saves your job almost weekly to have some insight into what's bothering him? No? Well, I tried. Get back to work. My door is always open if you bring the right key – with sprinkles."

Lynn decided it was none of her business. Round-eye problems were not her concern. She had enough trouble maintaining her equilibrium with her own set of challenges and didn't need to add anyone else's to her balancing act. Even if he was cute. And nice. And respectful. No. She had no room in her life for another emotional cripple. Her parents had provided enough drama; she did not need to seek it out.

Anna mentioned something that did surprise her. He'd hired Anna Wu not for her ethnicity but rather because she was a convicted felon. Chuck had 'overlooked' her truthful entry on her application. She did the crime, did the time and he believed she deserved a clean slate and fresh start. He respected the women who worked with him. Unique.

Chuck later asked Anna to help him develop a web crawler so he could search for his father. He offered to pay her since it was time off the clock but she wouldn't hear of it. His sister was getting married and it was his hope to find his dad so he could walk Ellie down the aisle. Anna thought it was endearing and busted her ass helping him develop his crawler.

Lynn thought it was stupid. If the man left them, why should they share such an important day with him? Better to let him remain lost. Of course, her own situation at home had nothing whatsoever to do with her opinion. None whatsoever. Her father had abandoned her shortly after her mother died and left a note that said '_you're better off_ _alone than with me'_. And she was. Alone. And she was better off. She told herself that enough and now she'd finally believed it to be true. She needed no man except for 'periodic biological necessities'.

The reason for his blue funk was that his crawler failed to find any evidence of his father's existence. No birth certificate, no school records, no military history, nothing. It was like Stephen Bartowski was a manufactured construct. He didn't exist.

He had failed his sister and was wallowing in the mire of self-pity or so it seemed to observers. Morgan finally ferreted out the truth. They'd been friends since elementary school. Not even his attendance at Stanford, his disastrous engagement and subsequent depression could shake Morgan's friendship with Chuck Bartowski. No. The problem was that his ex-fiancé had become 'ex' because she'd slept with his best friend at Stanford, the one and the same guy who'd accused Chuck of cheating on an exam and gotten him expelled.

He was in town. With Jill. And he was planning on dropping by and rubbing salt into an almost-healed wound. Now _that _rankled Lynn's sense of right.

Morgan was livid but could think of nothing to prevent it. Anna had offered "to off the little shit and his whore" since she felt she owed "Chuckles" big-time.

Chuck just squared his shoulders and prepared to be humiliated in front of his friends, coworkers and ex-fiancé but he'd seen the smoky green-eyed girl looking at him in pity and he couldn't stand that look, not from her.

Bryce Larkin, accompanied by a professionally attired Jill Roberts, strolled into the BuyMore like characters in a movie. The scene where the handsome prince throws pennies to the paupers and feels better for it although his princess would rather have kept the pennies and just waved to the unwashed peasants from a distance upwind.

"Well, Chuck Bartowski, how are ya, man? What are you up to? How's things at the BuyMore? Remember Jill?"

"Hello, Bryce, Jill. How you been? Looking pretty snazzy there in your expensive suit, Italian shoes and matching handbag. Screwed over any old friends lately? Lied to the Dean? Planted evidence? Fucked someone's fiancé? Stolen anyone's future, wrecked any reputations, given anyone else Herpes? I'm busy, Bryce, so save your cutting wit, rented suit and borrowed shoes and purse for someone who really cares. Get out of my store and don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya…and take that cheating whore with you. See you in another 5 years."

Larkin's chin hit the floor and his face turned red. Chuck Bartowski did not talk like that. He was a wimp who should have rolled over and died the minute he walked in the door.

Lynn walked over to Chuck, put her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him passionately. She had thoroughly enjoyed his destruction of the asshole Bryce Larkin.

"Sorry I'm late honey, but I got held up on an install. You ready for lunch? And who're your overdressed friends?" she queried. And then the penny dropped for her apparently.

"Oh, no, Chuck. No way, baby, this is _our_ lunch hour, and I'm not sharing you, Chuck. Tell them some other time. Let's go, we're late."

Smokey green eyes stared into brown eyes and seemed to say, "Play along".

She put her arm around his waist and turned him so his back was to Bryce and she let her hand drift down to cup his ass cheek and led him out the back of the store.

The green shirts and the Herders started laughing at Larkin and he stormed out of the store trailed by his rent-a-ho Jill Roberts who kept looking back over her shoulder at the man she'd thrown away.

Lynn disengaged herself from her supervisor and turned and looked up at him. "I'm sorry if that seemed inappropriate, Chuck, but I couldn't just stand by and let them humiliate you in front of your friends and coworkers. You're far too decent and don't deserve that. Now, if you're going to fire me, just tell me to leave. No hassles. I'm fine with it."

Chuck kept eye contact, brown on jade green, and leaned down and whispered in her ear "I already went to lunch today, but thanks for the invitation. How about dinner? I think I owe you more than a lunch. I'm not hitting on you, Lynn Kimble, so feel free to say 'no'."

She said yes. Six months later they moved in together, splitting the rent with his sister and her fiancé and were rarely apart unless required by differing shifts. Nothing was said about it at the BuyMore since no one wanted to incur the wrath of Anna Wu. Besides, scheduling was fair, work was easy and Chuck was happy.

**June**

Lynn was lying draped all over a very naked Chuck. And Chuck was lying under a very naked Lynn. She was enjoying the afterglow of incredible sex and was a little shaky and still experiencing a few aftershocks.

"Chuck, can I ask you something? Something really personal?" She was still a little out of breath and was keeping her sentences short and pointed.

"Depends." He was really out of breath. Maybe he needed to start taking a more active interest in Awesome's physical routine. And drink those disgusting 'wang shakes' so he wouldn't experience a not-so-Smiling-Bob-moment.

"Does it bother you that I never tell you I love you? Even though you tell me you do all the time and [_aftershock shudder_] show me everyday?" Oh, God, if he twitched his thing one more time it would be right where it would hit…_unnnnnnnnnggghhhh,_ he did that deliberately.

Chuck snickered and he ran his fingertips down her back and cupped her buttocks in his palms. A perfect fit. If I can twitch right about now she'll…_yes_, and the crowd goes wild.

"Oh, Chuck, please stop that. _NO_, don't stop that. Just answer the _questionnnnnggggg_ (he is _so_ going to pay for that)."

"Look, Lynn, I love you. I tell you because I want to say it, have you hear it and I show you because I don't know how not to. Why? Does it bother you that I'm committed to this relationship body and soul? Is this all too much for you somehow?"

He flipped her over on her back and started nibbling at her neck while caressing and teasing her nipples with the pads of his fingertips. She was perfectly proportioned with ample bosoms, a delicate tapering waist, perfectly toned arms and thighs and delicate hands and feet. She always sported the perfect golden tan, a gift from her mixed-race parents. Her hair was a gift from her Asian gene pool although it did get the faintest light brown highlights from the sun. She surfed whenever she could, and was trying to get Chuck to take windsurfing lessons with her. She was his perfect green-eyed girl.

He suddenly had a feeling that he knew where this conversation was headed. He leaned up on one elbow and looked at her in the faint light.

"I'm not your dad, Lynn. I won't bail on you just because it's easier than staying. Do you want out? Is this the 'Gee, Chuck, it's been fun but…" speech?"

His voice had hardened and it was obvious that he was feeling defensive and threatened. He untangled his legs from hers and rolled onto his back.

Lynn was shocked. How could an intimate moment like this plunge into a relationship death spiral?

"Chuck, I…"

Chuck got out of bed and said in a strangled voice "I'm going to take a shower and head on in to work. The cage is backed up again. Enjoy your day off, Lynn. I'll see you this evening."

They both knew the last sentence was really a question.

She was trying to explain something to the big idiot and as usual it got turned it into something else. They were both insecure for pretty much the same reasons and it made conversations like this difficult for both of them. And that's why they hadn't had it until now.

Chuck freely displayed his love for her. She hid hers, afraid that by admitting her love she'd become vulnerable. She wanted to change that. She wanted to scream to the world that she loved the big idiot Chuck Bartowski, genius and world's greatest lover. But if she did she'd be crushed when he left, as she knew he would. It's what men did.

_Fear of abandonment_ is what the psychologists label it.

Lynn knew that. She also knew that if this situation wasn't addressed immediately it would fester and rot the relationship she treasured from the inside out, making her fear a self-fulfilling prophecy. Chuck had a saying 'love goes where it's welcomed but stays only if returned'. One of his many axioms of life courtesy of the Burbank Red Dragon Restaurant fortune cookie collection.

She walked down the hallway past Ellie and Devon's closed door and into the bathroom. Chuck was already in the shower so she slipped in and into his arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm just afraid that you'll leave me if I make the kind of commitment you're looking for. Don't leave me. Don't be like our fathers. Stay with me and be my husband and father to our children. I love you and I'll always be here for you. I will never leave you."

"That's all I've ever wanted to hear you say. I'm not like our fathers. I'm in this for as long as I live. Now, either you go back to bed and get your beauty sleep or you make yourself useful and wash my back."

* * *

**July**

"Chuck, we've know each other all our lives, man, and you go and do something like this without so much as a consultation? That's just cold, Bartowski, and I thought we were friends." Morgan had just looked at the diamond ring Chuck had finally completed paying for and had reset, cleaned and sized that morning.

"Buddy, it's not like I'm dying. We've been living together for nearly 8 months. We love each other and want to make a commitment to one another. Nothing's going to change, Morgan, just because of a ring. It's not like we've set a date or anything. This is my sign to her of my commitment to our relationship, to us. It's important to her and so it's important to me."

Anna Wu was blatantly eavesdropping on the pair. She'd always had a hope for something between her and Chuckles but obviously Lynn had first claim on the big idiot's heart and soul. She was so happy for them. Despite a rocky start and some really interesting fights, they'd settled into a perfect relationship. She wasn't jealous of Lynn, just envious as hell.

Someday she would have a man talk about her like that who would feel the need to give tangible evidence of his commitment in the form of a ring. It wasn't gaudy. It was very elegant. It would not dominate her hand but complement it. Chuck had great taste in everything despite what the assholes that worked here said about everything but Lynn.

**Casa Bartowski  
August**

"Ok, Chuck. The chicken is roasting in the oven and the instructions for adding the veggies are on the pad beside the food processor. The salads are prepared and all you have to do is pop the rolls into the oven about 2 minutes after you pull the bird out to cool. Devon's got the wine all ready for you; just open it about the time you pull out the bird. That's it, Chuck. Oooooo, I can't believe my little brother is popping the question." Elliejoy and Elliehugs were things of awesome spectacle. Sometimes over done but always heartfelt.

"Thanks, Ellie. I don't think PB&J would be much of an engagement dinner and we both feel restaurants are too public for anything intimate. You sure you and Devon are Ok with this?"

"Chuck, we've been looking for an excuse to drive up to San Francisco and a long weekend is perfect. Now, follow the directions on the food, little brother, and follow your heart on the rest of it."

He met her at the door with a single white tea rose and a hug. "So, babe, how was your shift? Anything I need to know about happen?" The usual questions. No sense alerting her amazing bullshit detector. He wanted this to be perfect. Ok, maybe the rose tipped his hand a little but what the hell; he'd done cornier things for a lot less reason.

"Nope. The people and place are as you left them. Well, there's a new stain in the Entertainment Center. I love Morgan to death but he and Anna just need to get a room or borrow a car or something. It's getting so you have to look before you sit or use a flat surface in the store. And if you see a requisition for latex gloves, well, Anna and I refuse to use some of the equipment after Jeff has been left alone unsupervised with it. Understand, O' Exalted Leader?"

"Yes, Lynn, I understand. Morgan and Anna need to find their own place, not use the store for their boudoir, and they need to take Lysol or industrial grade solvent and clean every flat surface large enough to support Anna Wu's ass, and lastly, a requisition is pending approval for gloves to prevent contact with Loser Leavings. Did I miss anything, Miss Kimble?"

"Yes, O' Exalted Leader, you missed pressing your lips unto mine and allowing me to breathe and taste your essence. I have been too long away from your presence and I feel bereft and in need of comfort and screwing."

He loved it when she was in her 'educated & playful' mood. She sounded like a cross between a Shakespearean actress and a hooker.

"Later, Lynn. I have plans for the next hour or so that cannot be changed. After that, we can do all the nasty naked things your perverted little heart can imagine but for now, my house, my rules. Go and put on your pre-screwing clothes, babe, while I finish our dinner."

"Oh my God, Ellie cooked! I'm ravenous. Let's forget the sex and get with the food. Where are they?"

"Away for the entire weekend. And no, Ellie did not cook. I have prepared your repast for this evening. Roasted quail with truffle sauce, a light sauce, nothing heavy, some appropriate vegetables and a fine white wine. Now go and put on the pre-screwing duds, and I'll go back and read the directions."

She giggled, grabbed him around the neck and pulled him down for a tongue-duel, released him with a satisfactory suckling on his lower lip and sprinted for the bedroom and shower. She'd be ready in 5 minutes. How long did it take to put on a silk robe?

Dinner was a fine affair. Chuck had pulled off everything perfectly. It was finally time for the great moment and he felt like he was going to throw up, he was that nervous.

They'd moved over to the couch and were doing the yuppie thing of after-dinner wine when Chuck began his assault.

"Lynn, we've been together for a while and I think we've worked out most of the bumps in our road and I'd like to know where you think this should head?"

'Oh, shit, Chuck. Don't ask me that, please don't ask me. I don't know. I don't know.'

She hesitated and she could see the concern on his face. She hated being put on the spot. She had depended on him to make the tough calls for them, not her. Yes, she abdicated her role as his partner but by far he was the better educated and the better thinker of the two.

"Lynn, do you want to just keep things as they are or move on or what? I think it's a reasonable question."

"Are you breaking up with me, Chuck? Is that what this is all about? An elaborate setting for a simple 'time to move on, Lynn'?" Pissed Lynn was not good. Moving fast towards 'outraged Lynn' had terrible consequences. Her normally jade green eyes were fast hardening into smoky emerald green orbs of anger.

"No, my love, I'm asking you to marry me. I said I was in this for the long haul, Lynn. Now I don't know if 40 years will be enough."

He slipped the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit. She slipped over to straddle his lap and put her arms around his neck and kissed him her soft kiss, the special one she always withheld until she was absolutely certain there was no more pleasure to be wrung from their coupling.

"Yes. Yes. I'll marry you. Yes, I'll hang around with you for 40 years. Yes, I'm in it for the long haul and no, I'm not afraid you'll leave me, husband-to-be, for you love me and I have your promise here, on my finger and here, in my heart."

Chuck just sat there and grinned. Lynn stood, grabbed both his hands pulling him up saying, "Let's knock out the dishes and then get naked. I'm going to rock your world, round-eye."

"Engaged less than 2 minutes and already she'd dictating terms."

She undid the sash and shrugged the silk robe off her shoulders. "Ok, let's get naked, knock out the dishes and then I'll rock your world, my beloved round-eye."

* * *

**September**

"Lynn, how do you feel about going to Vegas next weekend with Ellie and Devon? I've scheduled us off Friday through Monday so we'd have four days to do stuff. What do you think?"

"We could have some alone time but the hotel would set us back a fortune, honey, and I think we'd be better off just banking the money for that rainy day we all worry about."

"OK, I just thought while we were there we could get married and have a short honeymoon before we have our vacation/honeymoon after the first of the year."

No response.

"Um, Lynn, did you hear me?"

"Shut up, my beloved round-eye, I'm mentally packing."

Later in the week

"But Chuck, you can't just go off and get married. What about the Bachelor Party and the Bachelorette Party and all that party stuff."

"Oh, yes, we can. And yes, we will. This time next week I'll have a wife." He sat down abruptly. A wife? Insurance, a new apartment, deposits, a car, life insurance, utility bills. What in the world was he doing?

"Hey, Chuck. Ready to take off for the evening? I need to stop by and pick up some stuff at the mall for our Vegas trip. Is that Ok?" He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew why. Lynn.

"Sure thing, Shorts. Be right with you. I suppose you want me there to carry all the bags and stuff. I do have other uses, y'know?" The Bartowski Eyebrow Dance commenced with devastating effect.

Lynn reached up and grabbed his tie, pulling him down to her level and leaned over and flicked her tongue in his ear and said "I need your opinion on some stuff on sale at Victoria's Secret for our getaway. And I thought we could spend some time alone practicing for the honeymoon. I want to make sure everything goes right. I'll need lots of practice and I'll need a partner."

"Morgan, clock me out, will ya? Gotta run, man. See ya tomorrow."

* * *

**Las Vegas**

"Man, Devon, that drive is a killer. I don't think I'll be able to stand up straight for days."

"Chuck, my brother-to-be, there's only one part of you that needs to stand up this week. Straight and tall, too." He laughed at his wit but was having trouble standing up straight himself and he hadn't been shoved into the cramped back seat.

"You shouldn't have sat in the back seat, Chuck. Ellie and I could have sat back there. A Toyota only has so much room."

"Yeah, but the I couldn't have had you snuggle up against me for the whole trip, and I couldn't have copped all those feels…" The Eyebrow Dance commenced.

Lynn giggled and looked at Ellie and then at Chuck. "And I thought you were just trying to get me to move over so you had some room. Sorry, I didn't know it was your libido getting out of hand. I guess you'll just have to wait until after we're married."

"…I now pronounce you husband and wife."

* * *

**October**

**Burbank BuyMore**

"Morgan, you and Anna either get a room or I'm scheduling you so you won't be working together. And since Anna is a Herder, that means you'll be on closing duty permanently. You can't have wild monkey sex all over the store. You leave…gunk on stuff. You got to stop it or it's a permanent shift change for you."

"But Chuck, that's so unfair. You and Lynn…"

"Are married, do what we do in our own place, not here. And don't make a stink about her working for me either. It's nepotism but I'm harder on her than any of you. She pulls her weight in installs and works the cage, so don't even go there."

"And Morgan, if I have to make any adjustments to Lynn's schedule because of any flak from corporate, you'll find nights very comforting as well as every inventory, every holiday and every special sale day. You're my friend, but she's my wife. Got it?"

**Casa Bartowski**

"You threatened Morgan with permanent closings if he and Anna weren't more discrete? That's cold, Chuck. I'm surprised at you."

"Look, Big Mike's getting complaints from customers. They're having wild monkey sex all over the place, on breaks, in the Herders. In _your _Herder as a matter of fact."

"Chuck, I'll talk to Anna but you tell Morgan he's dead meat if he even comes near my Herder. I had no idea what that was on the seat, and the window, and the headliner. Oh, shit, that's just gross!"

Chuck was quiet. Mission accomplished. He would never have been able to approach Anna on the subject but now Lynn was on a mission.

They were cuddled up on the couch watching an old Alfred Hitchcock movie when Ellie and Devon arrived home. Stormed home. Tore the door off home.

"Ellie, wait a minute. You don't understand. You're not listening to reason here, Ellie!"

"Oh, I understand just fine. I'm a doctor who is unfortunate to have her sexual apparatus on the inside while you and the rest of the medical fraternity have yours swinging in the wind. I get screwed but you, with all the benefits of the male medical community protection association, get the position.

"Look, I have more experience, more training and I've been in the trials program since before I met you. Get a grip. It's not a gender thing, it's who's got the experience."

"You mean it's who's got the _dick_, don't you? Devon, you knew how important this was to me. Well, I hope you and your good ol' boys like each other a whole lot because the only sex you're going to be getting is if one or more of them is gay. I think you need to rethink your housing arrangements, too."

The bedroom door caromed off the frame, bounced against the doorstop then slammed shut. Chuck had never seen his sister this angry.

"Uh, Devon, now might be a good time to see if one of your frat bros can put you up for the night or so. She's not going to be talking to you until she goes through her famous 4 steps. That could take a while. I've never seen her so angry, not even when her mother left us. Not even when I got thrown out of Stanford."

* * *

**November**

Eleanor Faye Bartowski had called it quits with Devon Woodcomb. Again. For the second time in as many months. The first had been a 'professional' squabble. The Dick had gotten a plum fellowship helping with clinical trials of a new drug therapy that would reduce rejection rates on transplant patients. The Dickless had accused the board of gender bias. She had also accused her then-fiancé of that same bias even though she knew his experience in the trials pre-dated her application.

This time, even though she had ended their relationship and returned the ring, she had been insanely jealous of Devon and an ER nurse dating. She'd confronted him in the hospital cafeteria line somewhere between the salads and the ubiquitous Jell-O. She'd made quite a scene and had embarrassed the crap out of him. Good. Let him see how it feels to be demeaned. The nurses really liked Ellie and the ER nurse felt the full force of her profession's female cadre and poor Devon lost another possible girlfriend.

It hadn't mattered that she and Devon had not been on a date since October. What mattered was that he dared to resume a normal life while her's was in such disarray.

Ain't love grand?

* * *

**Casa Bartowski**

Lynn opened one eye when she heard the apartment door open and close normally. Good, no EllieSlams. The shift must have progressed normally. She loved her sister-in-law to death but lately she'd begun to wear on the newly weds. Lots of drama, too much drama.

She reached down and began fondling her husband, figuring if she was awake then he should be, too. "Chuck, Chuck, hey, round eye, I'm awake and naked and wet and ready and horny and I want to make love to my husband. But you'll do."

She ran a fingertip down his hip to where his tattoo was. It was her idea to have a glyph from her mother's language tattooed on each of them so that when they merged in love she would be thanking her mother's ancestral gods for bringing her to this fine man. It never hurt to have the gods on your side and a frequent reminder to them was not inappropriate. She laughed to herself. _Frequent _was an understatement.

She knew her maternal grandfather was still alive. She'd seen his picture in the newspapers and had asked her mother about him. It was the same man whose picture graced her dresser top. He was a warlord in the Golden Triangle region. A dangerous man. But a man who loved his daughter and allowed a foreigner to take her away to a distant land where she would be safe.

Her mother got letters from him monthly. She asked if she could write to her grandfather. She felt a need to connect with her race's culture and history. Her mother had taught her to write the glyphs that were his native language and she sent her first letter to him when she was 13.

And she had written faithfully to him every 2 weeks since. She told him of her life, her family's problems, her hopes and dreams. His letters came with her mother's and together they learned about his life. She vowed that someday she would meet her grandfather and introduce him to her beloved husband.

When her mother died, she was the one who told him. When her father left, he sent her money and asked her to come home. She wrote that she was home but would find a way to meet him if possible. His letters continued regularly while hers became less frequent as her life grew more hectic.

When Chuck got one of the letters out of the mailbox after she'd moved in with him, he asked her about it. After explanation, he asked her to begin writing weekly, keeping a journal letter and mailing it each Friday recounting all her activities. He felt family was important and she knew he'd begun a "Grandfather" account to save for their trip. He was determined to meet her family and gain their acceptance and trust. He sent pictures along for her grandfather to see his granddaughter and her life.

"Lynn, a tattoo? Of what? I have you in my heart and head, I don't need a visual reminder." He wasn't really keen on needles, my round eye.

"It's just a small symbol, Chuck. My family glyph high on your thigh, and your family glyph high on mine. When we make love, our families will be joined. Please?"

"'Bartowski' is a word in your language? Wow."

"No, I made it up, phonetically. I have to get 3 glyphs; you get by with one small one. Please?"

"Of course, for you and your family, of course. But you have to hold my hand and maintain eye contact. I frikkin' _hate_ needles."

"My brave beloved round eye."

* * *

Two days later, Chuck had returned to the tattoo shop and asked if the artist still had the glyph template that Lynn had given him for Chuck's tattoo and asked that another, larger one, be inked over his heart.

He managed to hide it from her for a few days until the swelling and itching had stopped and when she saw it in the shower she added another reason to the list of why she loved her husband. That night they reminded the gods many times of their existence.

The next letter sent to her grandfather included a picture of them at the beach with Chuck's tattoo prominently visible and his wife smiling at her grandfather knowing he would understand and appreciate the sentiment and would be assured that her round eye was a good man.

"Chuck, wake up and ravish me. Chuck, wake up and…"

"Oh, Chuuuuck, you gifted linguist, you…"

Chuck got up to take a quick shower. From the looks of things, his dainty delight would be hors de combat for a bit more if her dainty snores were any indication. 'I am such a lucky bastard to have found my other half so early in life. The long haul can't be long enough for me.'

After his shower he checked his email and saw one that prompted him for a response to an old game he and Bryce had played in college. Grinning with a pleasant memory of beer and better times he keyed in the appropriate response and hit |ENTER|.

End Prologue and Chapter 1


	2. The Thick Plottens

GreenEyedGirl2

_A/N: Greetings from Horseshoe Beach, FL. A little behind schedule but within acceptable parameters. There are less than 300 people here and probably not many more teeth excluding the rich capitalist condo owners out on the Cay. Raisins, wrinklies and near-deads abound._

_OK. For all you angst lovers, a feast awaits. If you like Casey, don't read. I make no apologies for his treatment. I always thought he was a gloating prick anyway. He hasn't stepped too far away from his __**Independence Day**__ Wooden Man imitation. _

_Pay attention to the punctuation here people. I haven't figured out the volume control on my fonts yet and some of these scribblings are loud._

_Jasmine and Vanilla. My two favorite scents. Bye Li. _

Armor-Plated-Rat  
16 June 2009  
Horseshoe Beach, FL

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
6:45am**

"Chuck! Chuck! Chuck? Hey, honey, wake up, time for work. And why are you lying on the floor naked? Chuck!! Damn it, Chuck, this isn't funny. Wake up!"

"Quit yelling, Lynn. I'm awake and I have a colossal headache. Why the hell am I lying on the floor?"

"Look, I woke up and there you were. Don't you remember last night at all? Did you bump your head? Get some shorts on, honey, I'm getting Ellie right now."

Ellie did the usual 'follow my finger' exam then flicked the search light into his eyes nearly blinding him, or so it seemed. "Jesus, Ellie, just stop. I'm fine. I guess I just fell out of bed or something. I'm fine and I have to get ready for work."

"Why don't you call in sick, babe, there's nothing on the agenda that the Herd can't handle. You have plenty of sick time accrued. I'd feel better if you just went back to bed for a while. Maybe come in to work after noon if you feel that responsible." Lynn was trying to convince him to stay home so Ellie could check on him from time to time. Nothing like this had ever happened before and she was scared to death.

"I'm fine, Lynn, really. You can drive me into work and I'll just work in the cage. If I start feeling dizzy or anything I'll come get you and you can drive me home. OK? No big deal."

After a quick breakfast, they drove into the BuyMore and he spent the day in the cage and by shift end had no adverse symptoms and they headed home.

"Chuck, you scared the crap out of me. If that was a joke, please never do anything like that again. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to my round eye. I was so scared, Chuck."

"Hey, I'm fine. No big deal. Probably won't happen again until I'm 85 so quit worrying. I'm not going anywhere. I made a promise, remember? And dying would be the ultimate cop out and I have no intentions of doing that for 60 or 70 years. Now, no tears, we're fine."

* * *

**NSA Headquarters  
FT Meade, MD  
Monday 2pm**

"We traced the email with the intersect attachment to a location in Burbank outside Los Angeles. It went to a Charles Bartowski who was Larkin's college room mate and 'best friend' until he accused Bartowski of unethical activities and he was expelled from Stanford. He's had minimal contact with Larkin, no phone contacts, no letters, nothing to indicate a prearranged meeting. Several months ago he and his current girlfriend, a Jill Roberts, visited Bartowski at his place of employment and stayed less than 15 minutes. The girlfriend is Bartowski's ex-fiancé and there's no love lost between them."

"What do we know about this Bartowski?"

"Married, no known political affiliations, works in Burbank as a technical support supervisor at a BuyMore Electronics store. Good credit, no police record, corporate records show he's an excellent employee earmarked for management training and reassignment. He and his wife, Lynn Kimble Bartowski, live with his sister in an apartment in Burbank. The wife works at the BuyMore also; it appears that's where they met. The sister is an MD completing her residency in general medicine at the local hospital. She's a 'model citizen' also."

"Director, I think we need to send a team out to interview this Bartowski and determine if the email and related data is in his possession. I recommend we take possession of the computer and do our own investigation as well as set up some sort of permanent surveillance on the subject until we can determine the location of the intersect data. The fact that he's still alive would indicate that he did not absorb the attachment in download form but we need to be certain. The last 6 candidates all died of brain trauma or stroke after receiving the download. Bartowski should be no different."

"I agree, General Beckman. CIA will send Agent Walker. She can team up with your agent and conduct contact and surveillance as you suggested. We'll share data and reports daily until we know more. If the intersect has been compromised, I recommend sanctions on all involved parties."

"Agreed. I'll cut orders for Major Casey to meet with your agent and plan contact and surveillance."

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
Tuesday 6:45am**

"Chuck, Chuck, wake up baby. I'm hitting the beach and I just wanted you to know I love you and I'll be thinking about you when I hit the BIG WAVE… hahaha"

"Lynn, I still have 15 minutes. So go do the California Surfer Girl thing and I'll see you at work. Don't forget to check and see if we got those spots in the windsurfing class. Love you. Go aw…"

What ever rejoinder he was going to make was stifled by warm lips nibbling on his and the smell of jasmine and vanilla.

"I'm gone, Chuck. See ya at work. Surf's up!"

**BuyMore  
Burbank, CA  
Tuesday, 2pm**

CIA agent Sarah Walker entered the BuyMore, cell phone in hand. It had only taken a few seconds to 'adjust' it so that it was non-functional providing a reason to approach the mark.

She did a quick appraisal of Bartowski. Typical computer geek complete with pocket protector, tall, not unattractive but definitely not her type, and alone at the help desk.

"Excuse me, can I get someone to check my phone, please? It died on me in the car and I'm lost without my cell."

"Sure, did you want to leave it or can you wait around a bit, maybe grab some lunch while it's being repaired?" he said after looking at the cell phone make and model. This phone had an annoying fault that was easily repaired. It was so common that the manufacturer just reimbursed the tech center regardless of the cost.

Chuck looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. He suddenly got a little dizzy and when he closed his eyes for a few seconds he saw images of files, photographs, everything about the blonde woman standing in front of him.

This gorgeous blonde was an agent of the Central Intelligence Agency using the assumed name of Sarah Walker with primary duties of infiltration, seduction, extortion, information retrieval and assassination. She had an unbroken string of successful missions. She was a spy!

According to the images in his head she was partnered with Bryce Larkin. Well, ain't that a hoot. Blondie's banging Bryce Larkin and Bryce is a spy. Wonder if she knows about Jill?

'How the hell do I know that?' he thought. 'Maybe I'm just imagining things. Maybe I fell and hit my head last night. I'll call Ellie as soon this woman leaves.'

"Why Charles, are you asking me to lunch?" She looked him straight in the eye, solid eye contact, evaluating his responses while she turned on the flirt machine. This might be easier than she thought. She's worn a top that easily displayed her 'wares' but he never seemed to get past her eyes. Gay? Nothing in the file about any sexual deviations or preferences.

Chuck laughed. "No, ma'am, I'm just saying that you can leave it and pick it up tomorrow morning or, if I'm right about what's wrong, you can come back and pick it up in no more than 45 minutes. I was just suggesting you might want to grab a late lunch while _I_ take a look at it. And it's 'Chuck' not Charles, Agent Walker, just Chuck."

She almost didn't catch the reference 'Agent Walker' so lost had she become in those brown eyes. 'Those eyes should be registered as lethal weapons. Most women would be putty in his hands if he only knew their effect. They offered her a moment's peace, a brief sanctuary. Oof, get you head back in the game, he knows you're an Agent but it's like he doesn't know he knows. He used the title 'Agent' like he'd use 'miss or sir,' unconsciously. This needs to be reported and evaluated.

She smiled her devastating 'I want you' smile. "I'll just do some window shopping and stop by around 4, Chuck." But her mark wasn't paying any attention to her. His entire being was focused elsewhere. Most marks would be pawing the ground by now, raging erections canceling out all other thoughts except her. She quickly looked around, taking in her surroundings, evaluating threat levels.

The object of his undivided attention was a small AmerAsian woman with smoky green eyes and a smile only for the mark. This must be the wife. She was dressed in the female version of the mark's 'uniform' that screamed 'geek alert' on him but on her softly chimed 'beautiful intelligent woman.' She would pose the primary obstacle between the agent and the man who'd unwittingly identified himself as knowing about the intersect.

For one of the few times in her adult life Sarah Walker felt…inadequate, plain and of no consequence. 'I wonder if I took off all my clothes if he'd even notice? When was the last time anyone looked at me like that? Hell, when had _anyone_ _**ever**_ looked at me like that?'

'Get control of the mark and the situation, Agent'.

She reached over the counter and put her hand on his forearm. "Chuck, I said I'll just do some window shopping and be back around 4 pm, is that all right?"

He turned his head and glanced at her, as if annoyed. His eyes, once beckoning and welcoming, were now dark and closed off. "Sure, that will be fine. See you then. Have a nice day." California formula response and dismissal. She hated California.

But as he turned Walker saw an incredible smile light up his face as he reached out and took the brunette's hand and left the known world for a better place.

She sighed to herself.

Sarah Walker had just been dismissed and forgotten and she knew it. And she didn't like it one bit.

She would report the situation and her observations back to the Director and General and await further instructions. That meant another 'red eye' flight back to D.C. for her. Her frequent flier miles were already racking up.

This boring assignment suddenly offered challenges that appealed to her competitive spirit. No one ignored her for long and those that did, did so at their own peril.

As she walked away from the service counter she heard the ultimate dismissal. "Who? Oh, her. She's just a customer with a screwed up cell phone. I forgot to ask, did we get spots in the windsurfing class? I have to rework the schedules a bit and need to know. And do you want take-out tonight? Ellie's working and it's your turn to cook, O' Domestic Goddess of Burbank. I think Thai, maybe?"

Secret agent ploys rebuffed and dismissed as nothing by a pair that thinks windsurfing and takeout are life's monumental issues of the day.

So why did she suddenly feel so alone and trivial?

* * *

**Wednesday morning  
Ft Meade, MD  
NSA Headquarters  
Conference Room**

"Agent Walker, you're sure he addressed you by title and name?"

"Yes, Director, and it was in a manner like you or I would use "Miss" or "Mister". No hesitation, no evidence of subterfuge, just a straight forward acknowledgment and used properly in a sentence. It was too quick to have been planned. It was a spontaneous response to my question."

"And did he greet you the same way when you returned for your 'broken' phone?"

"No, General. Another tech gave me the phone. The mark had already left for the day. His note told me the problem occurred so frequently that there was no charge for a simple fix. There was no salutation, just a hurried note of explanation. He signed it 'C. Bartowski, Supervisor'. No further indication or recognition of my title or affiliation."

"We need more information. Agent Walker, you will partner with Major John Casey of my agency and will conduct maximum surveillance on the subject watching for any further indications of the presence of the intersect. A human intersect would be an amazing advancement in our abilities to combat international terrorism as well as enhance our overall understanding of how the intersect develops in a human brain."

"The agency will provide you with a cover job and a place to stay. Major Casey will want to be as close as possible physically to this Bartowski to monitor all communications and computer activities in his household. We will also conduct 24/7 visual and audio surveillance of all occupants."

"If this Bartowski has somehow absorbed the download then it is imperative that he be secured in a facility totally controlled by us. The risk of him falling into the wrong hands is simply too great. The security of the nation is at stake. A maximum effort is required by all parties and agencies and any collateral damage has been sanctioned at the highest level of the National Command Authority."

"Other assets are being mobilized to do an in-depth investigation of this Charles Bartowski. I think it's interesting that General Beckman feels it necessary to sequester this young man when in fact he would most probably function much more effectively as a member of an action team. He is in a loving relationship with his wife. He would not function well if he was suddenly taken to a secure facility. Further, I submit that any action such as putting him in a bunker would reduce his willingness to cooperate."

"No, General Beckman, the CIA will not support any detention action against Mr. Bartowski. You are assuming that he will not cooperate, that he will be recalcitrant, when in fact, everything we know about him suggests otherwise. He needs to be designated as a security asset and assigned a team of handlers. This is the perfect opportunity to see if real time access to intelligence data will underscore the original premise of the Omaha project."

"Agent Walker, you need to prepare yourself for a long term deep-cover assignment. Do you agree to undertake such an arduous assignment so soon after leaving a similar environment?"

"Yes, Director Graham, of course."

"Good. I know you caught the 'red eye' in from L.A. so I expect you to be back in Los Angeles on Friday and ready to initiate contacts on Monday. Clear up your affairs here in D.C. and contact me upon arrival for any updates. Thank you again for your commitment to the greater good."

* * *

**Wednesday 11am  
Secure Call  
Burbank, CA**

"You understand your instructions, Major Casey? The potential danger to the country should a human intersect exist is far too great a risk. There are too many opportunities for capture, compromise or defection. The desire to provide real-time information to a bunch of cowboys running around playing spy vs. spy in the real world is ludicrous. The life of one young man is hardly worth the risk to 300,000,000 Americans. You will initiate an elimination operation and have it completed before the CIA's Agent and handler is in place on Monday."

Diane Beckman understood inter-agency politics. Arthur Graham wanted to enhance the prestige of his humint operations whereas the NSA chose the 'high ground' of satellites and analytical interpretation of data to determine threats. The CIA was a dinosaur crumbling towards extinction and it's budget and staff would be forfeit to the NSA upon its demise. The age of boots on the ground was over. The human intersect project had just been cancelled and so had one Charles Bartowski.

**Wednesday Evening  
Los Angeles**

John Casey had many contacts from service in the former Soviet Union. Many of these contacts owed their current lives or livelihoods to him. One such man was Yvegny Andryevich Petrovich, a former minor officer in the NKVD, and now a successful entrepreneur in the lucrative world of prostitution in Los Angeles. One call and the arrangements were made. A money drop was established and the opportunities would be created to complete the assignment. A face-to-face meeting among old friends would be the setting for the final payoff once the task was completed. Just like the old days in the war with the Evil Empire. He missed the good old days.

* * *

**Wednesday Evening  
Casa Bartowski**

It was just the two of them for dinner. Ellie had the 2nd shift and wasn't due in until midnight. Chuck had been treated like a Greek God this evening… Lynn had once again presented him with a burnt offering. And now was in need of consoling.

"Hey, babe, it's no big deal. It wasn't bad. It was my fault anyway for distracting you with my rant about Morgan and Anna. Don't cry, Lynn. It breaks my heart when you do that."

"I'll never be able to cook like your sister, Chuck. (sniff, sniff). You might as well accept your fate. (sniff, sniff, sniff). You'll starve once Ellie moves out and goes back East. Or you'll just have to do all the cooking."

The sniffling became giggling then outright laughter.

"You little snip. You did that deliberately. All you wanted was to make me feel bad and take over the cooking. Well, when Ellie goes to Johns Hopkins, maybe I'll just go with her rather than starve here with you."

Silence. Big mistake, Chuck.

Lynn looked up at him with real tears in her eyes this time. No crocodile tears. Real big ones that flowed down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. It was a joke, Lynn. I won't leave you until I die. And then I'll probably hang around for a while, making sure I'm properly mourned and you don't run away with that new guy, John. I see you making eyes at him."

She hugged him tightly and sighed. Hormones. These damned hormones. Maybe I should talk to Ellie before Christmas gets everyone too busy. I just don't know how we'll afford this place on our salaries with Ellie gone so she should look for a sublet tenant. We're going to have to move to another place. And now, with a baby on the way. I'm afraid to tell him. He's got so much on his plate and this is just one more thing for him to obsess about.

"Chuck, I need to tell you something. Please don't be angry. It's your fault, too, y'know? It takes two to tango, round eye."

"Lynn, what's wrong? What did I do?"

""Lynn?"

"Chuck, you knocked me up."

"Chuck?"

"Chuck?!"

Lynn had never before seen the look that walked across her husband's face. He went from shocked to worried to concerned to pleased to extremely pleased to insufferably smug to that special loving look. And she'd never seen him smile so widely.

"I want a girl. We'll call Ellynn after the two most important women in my life. Is that OK with you? I mean, well, it's selfish of me, what name did you want?"

"If it's a boy, Jason Charles, if it's a girl, I love Ellynn."

"Where you going, Chuck?" He was dialing his cell and walking out the front door.

"Ellie, you're going to be an aunt." The scream could be heard without a cell phone.

* * *

**Thursday evening  
Casa Bartowski**

Ellie Bartowski was in rare form. She'd already presented Lynn with lists of things she needed to do to prepare for the blessed event and she'd given her niece or nephew an early birthday present. She'd enrolled Lynn in a natural childbirth program that provided prenatal and postnatal health care and OB/GEN services for a flat fee. Ellie had paid the fee and would brook no objections.

"I get a helluva discount and this way I'll be involved in the process even though I'll be in Baltimore. I'm sorry now I applied to JH for the fellowship. I should be here to help you and Chuck. I feel like I'm abandoning you in your darkest hour. I'm a shitty aunt and the baby's not even here yet."

Part of the cause of the 'rare form' was due to two bottles of white wine she'd sucked down unassisted since Lynn had switched to water for the duration.

"Ellie, don't be a putz. You've done everything anyone could do. It's up to us to handle the rest. We'll miss you but I'll bet Chuck will find a way to do video conferencing so you'll be able to see the bump become a watermelon. I'll miss you, big sis. Damned hormones. I'm going to cry."

* * *

**Friday morning  
Burbank, CA  
BuyMore**

John Casey was nothing if not a meticulous planner. He checked the off-site callboard and confirmed that 'Bartowski' was designated for any unscheduled off-site tech support.

He placed a call to his Russian friend and then went back to his disgusting job of selling imported crap to people who had no pride or patriotism and simply wanted the cheapest product to fill their empty lives.

**Friday  
BuyMore  
Burbank, CA  
2:40pm**

The support call came in at 2:40. A major customer with a cascade server failure on the other side of town. Rebooting the systems did not alleviate the problem. The on-call Tech Support Herder was dispatched.

**Friday  
Burbank Hospital  
Burbank, CA  
3:50pm**

Ellie Bartowski was paged and told to report to the ER immediately. She was met by the ER resident who took her into a trauma room and gently asked for confirmation of the identity of the body. The doctor signed off on the form and set time of death as 3:40pm.

**Friday  
BuyMore  
Burbank, CA  
4:05pm**

The two Burbank police officers, one male and one female walked up the aisle to the Nerd Herder support desk and asked to speak with Charles Bartowski.

"That's me, officers, how can I help you?" Chuck smiled. His day was almost over and he and Lynn had plans for the evening. He was taking her out to dinner to celebrate their good fortune.

"Mr. Bartowski, your wife, Lynn, was in a car accident. Her company vehiclewas broad sided by a stolen delivery truck and she was taken to Burbank Hospital where she died of her injuries. We're very sorry for your loss and will take you to the hospital. Your sister, Dr. Bartowski, is with your wife and will remain there until you arrive."

The female officer walked around the counter and took Chuck by the hand and wrapped her arm around his shoulders and led him to the waiting police vehicle. It was Morgan who finally approached with the obvious question. "Hey, Chuck, buddy, what's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

"Sir, Mr. Bartowski's wife was in an accident. We're taking him to the hospital." He motioned for his partner to take the stricken man to the car and he'd follow.

"Some fucking crack head stole a delivery truck and t-boned your friend's wife's vehicle. She didn't survive and we're looking for the bastard who escaped on foot. There were crack rocks on the seat that he apparently spilled. She didn't have a chance. I'm sure she felt nothing. It happened too quickly and the truck was going damned fast. Excuse me now, I have to go."

Anna ran up to Morgan and asked the same question. "Where are the cops taking Chuck?"

Morgan looked at her and dragged her into an awkward embrace. "Lynn's dead, Anna. She was killed in an accident. They're taking Chuck to the hospital to be with her. Ellie's there. She'll take care of everything. Oh, Anna, what's he going to do without her?"

Anna sat an upset Morgan down behind the Herder counter and went and banged on Big Mike's door. A few minutes later Big Mike came out, made the announcement and closed the store. Everyone liked Chuck and Lynn. Everyone was upset. Including John Casey. He'd forgotten that there were _two_ Bartowskis.

* * *

**Friday  
Burbank Hospital  
Burbank, CA  
4:30pm**

Ellie had told the nurses to remove as much evidence of trauma as possible and to remove the bloody clothing and all the emergency equipment and supplies that were scattered throughout the room. Then Ellie had washed as much of the blood and glass from her sister-in-law as she could and brushed her hair. The police had brought Lynn's purse from the wrecked Herder and now Ellie was clutching it to her as if she could somehow change all this if she just squeezed it hard enough.

Chuck stood beside Lynn and put his head on her beast and cried. He cried for her and their unborn child. He cried for himself and his lost love. He cried because he had not told her he loved her that day. He cried because he was already dying without his green-eyed girl in his life. He cried because he had promised her he would never leave her and he'd never asked her to make the same promise. If she had promised him, she'd still be alive. She never broke a promise to him.

Ellie was in doctor mode and she knew she had to be strong for Chuck. Later, after she got him home, she would fall apart and begin mourning her little sister and her baby and her brother, a widower at 26.

* * *

For all his bluster and barking, Big Mike was a gentle and emotional man who hid his feelings behind a gruff exterior and a loud bark. Right now he was very emotional and very loud.

"I don't care if it's after 5pm, you get your ass in gear and get those insurance checks processed and in my hands by 2pm Monday or I will fly up there and kick your vice presidential ass from one floor of corporate to the executive suite."

"One of our own has been killed while on duty and her husband is an employee and will need paid time off and counseling that I fully expect corporate to endorse and pay for. Get those death benefit checks to me by Monday. I don't want that fine young man worrying about how he's going to pay for his wife's funeral. No, sir, he will have enough to worry about. His friends will have his back. You corporate types will now have to walk the walk to match all your over-paid talk."  


* * *

**Friday  
LAX International  
Los Angeles, CA  
6:45pm**

"Graham, secure."

"Walker, secure. I've arrived in Los Angeles and will be in place to commence operations by end of day tomorrow. Any changes or updates to the situation or my orders, sir?"

"Sarah, Lynn Bartowski was killed in an automobile accident earlier today. She was on her way to handle a trouble report when her vehicle was struck by a stolen truck. She was killed instantly. That's it on the surface. However, the company denies ever placing the assistance call to the Herder help line. They have no reports of problems. The police are searching for the driver and believe it was a crack head because of the evidence 'conveniently' found at the scene."

"And you think...?"

"I don't think, Sarah, I _know_. I just can't prove it. But I wouldn't put much faith in intra-agency cooperation. Agent Walker, you'll have a much more difficult time bonding with the asset. I've made some changes in your role as well as your employment. Details will be on your computer when you arrive at your hotel in Burbank."

"Sweetie, this one is going to require a lot out of you. You're going to have to be 'real' for him if this is going to work. I know 'Sarah Walker' can do it. The question I have is whether or not _you_ can handle it. Do you wish to abort your assignment, Jenn?

"No, Uncle Art. I can handle it. And Director Graham, please don't call me 'Jenn' again. It's been 14 years since you got me out of that hell hole and recruited me. You only call me that when you feel guilty about an assignment you're given me. I'll be fine, I promise. Give my love to Aunt Cathy. I'm sorry I didn't get to see her this trip."

"Good bye, Agent Walker. I'll speak with you on Monday after you have reviewed the updates on your assignment. Meet Major Casey as previously arranged. Watch your back on this one, Sarah. There's always the possibility of blue on blue."

Oh, shit. 'Blue on Blue' was military jargon for friendly fire. The director was warning her that she couldn't rely on her 'partner'.

* * *

**Saturday  
Café Mockva  
11:15pm**

John Casey strolled into the supper club and was assailed by odors and ambiance of his time spent in Russia. The Café Mockva (Moscow) was a place Russian émigrés came to when they got home sick.

"Ah, Ivan Ivanovich, it is good to see you again. I hope you are well and have good news for me?"

"Yvegny Andryevich Petrovich, you and I are in need of more vodka and some soft companionship. Let's sit and talk about old times in better places. Much has changed in the world since we sat in your dacha drinking tea and watching the snows fall."

After an hour of drinking, John suggested that Petrovich accompany him to the alley to relieve themselves. Both knew it was spy-speak for getting paid off.

"You know, Yvegny Andryevich, we are getting too old for this. Here is a little something for your retirement fund," and handed him a thick envelope with his left hand and shot him with the silenced Walther he held in his right. He tore open the envelope and stuffed about $1,000 in Ben Franklins into the mouth of the fresh corpse.

It was a Russian Mafia message that Petrovich had snitched on his fellows for cash. The amount was significant in that it said the betrayal was of someone far up the food chain. All this was maskirovka, dolls within dolls, to send a misleading message to both the mob and any cops investigating the shooting.

No loose ends, no mouths to speak and no path of breadcrumbs to lead anyone back to the NSA or its agent.

Casey put the rest of the cash in his coat pocket for his own 'retirement fund' and quickly left the alley, walked 3 blocks to his car and then drove to his hotel. Tomorrow he would move into the NSA-provided apartment and surveillance center. He also planned to meet with Sarah Walker if she arrived prior to Monday.

Too bad about the girl but it was collateral damage and Casey knew that was government for 'shit happens'. He was sure he'd find quite a few opportunities to complete his mission and perhaps even find a way to blame it on the CIA agent. That would be sweet.

EndGreenEyedGirl2


	3. Extorted Promises and Surfing Acolytes

GreenEyedGirl3

_A/N: I'm surprised that so many of you liked Lin. I wrote her as she is, was, hell, might have been. If it's been a while since I updated I'm sorry. You know I love cliffhangers but despise people who write stories and then drag-ass finishing them. I know about Pandora's Box but I got issues with it_

_As for the time it'll take Chuck to fall for Sarah, patience. I got time-compression software on order. I can make your day seem the blink of an eye or I can make it drag like the 300 minutes between 4:30 and 5pm on a Friday._

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
19 June 2009  
Tampa Bay Anchorage  


* * *

_**December 18  
Casa Bartowski  
Friday 9pm**

Big Mike had been waiting at the apartment. He looked like he'd shed a tear or two and he hugged Ellie and Chuck and mumbled something about insurance checks and not to worry about a thing. And to call him if Chuck needed to talk or just have someone to sit quietly with him.

Ellie Bartowski had lost all pretense of being the controlled medical professional and had thrown herself into her brother's arms sobbing and hugging him close. She knew she should be the one consoling her brother but she was unable to even form a coherent thought. Her grief was overwhelming.

Chuck simply held on to his sister, his anchor, while she fell apart into her component emotional pieces. He felt strangely detached from all this. He'd left all his tears at the hospital and now he was standing to the side watching. He should have listened to the grief counselor at the hospital but he'd been too overwhelmed. All he'd wanted to do was go back to the ER and hold his wife and pray it was all a big mistake.

Chuck picked his sister up in his arms like she was a baby. She was finally running out of tears and the emotional outpouring had left her spent. He put her to bed, removing her shoes and socks and covering her with a comforter. He left the table lamp on and closed the door.

He made a pot of coffee. He washed the dishes and scrubbed down the counter tops. He knew eventually he'd have to go into their bedroom. If he could postpone that simple act he could pretend she was out running an errand, working late or already home and taking a nap. She wasn't dead. She was still alive. His green-eyed girl with her practical attitude and her spontaneous love of life was just on the other side of that door asleep.

And as long as he never opened that door he could hang on to that simple belief and not have to face reality.

Devon provided a needed delay when he rang the bell to the apartment.

"Chuck, I'm so sorry. I just heard when I went in for my shift. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do? Please, Chuck, I know Ellie and I are done but you were the closest to a brother I've got out here and I want to help."

"Yeah, please go into that room" pointing to the bedroom, "and get me a change of underwear and some grungy clothes. I can't go in there, Dev, if I do I'll have to admit she's… she's …" and that's all he could say. He sat on the couch and stared at the door to the room that held his past, present and future.

Devon went into their room. It smelled like vanilla. And something else. It smelled like Lynn. He didn't blame Chuck at all. He grabbed what he needed and left, closing the door almost reverently.

His should-have-been-brother-in-law was sitting on the couch. He'd taken off his shirt and was using it to muffle his crying. He didn't want to wake his sister. She'd been through enough. He knew that she had bathed his dead wife and brushed her hair to spare him the image of Lynn as she was when the light left her eyes. He would always be grateful to her for that simple act of kindness.

Devon didn't know what to do. His training taught him that the physician had to keep emotional involvement with his patients to a minimum if he was to avoid problems later in his practice. While he knew this was correct, he had always questioned if it was right. Now he knew.

He walked down the hallway and tapped at Ellie's door. Not getting a response, he went in and lay down next to his former love and pulled her to him. If it had been Ellie what would he have done? How would he have felt? He buried his face in her hair and thanked God he did not have to answer those questions today. She sensed him and snuggled in closer to him and sighed and drifted deeper into sleep.

**Residential Hotel****  
Burbank, CA  
9pm**

**_A/N: Sarah's POV_**

I drove by the store where the mark worked for no other reason than curiosity. Morbid curiosity. The store was closed and there was a sign in the entrance that read "Closed due to the death of a family member. We will reopen on Monday at 2pm after the memorial service."

I didn't think corporate America gave a damn about one of its worker ants. Maybe this BuyMore is an exception or maybe the Bartowski couple had been exceptional. I prefer to think it was the latter. From what I remember, the mark and the girl were unaware of anyone but the two of them. And his smile when he saw her. Stuff like that is only in cheap romance novels. I should know, I read them…if they're left in the room by a previous guest.

I think this room is probably a clone of ones I've stayed in previously in Prague, Berlin, Barcelona, and Cartagena this list could go on and on. I don't think there's ever been a more impersonal room in the list, though. Maybe it's because I've only brought bare necessities with me and the Agency will provide the remainder if the mission here does kick off by the mark having the intersect.

I add 'attend memorial service' to my list of to-dos on Monday. I can observe from a safe distance and identify close friends and family from the way they deal with the mark after the service. As soon as possible after the service I'll approach Bartowski and run a few simple field tests to determine the presence of the intersect. If it's there I'll ask him for time alone to explain what's happened to him. If its not, then he's someone else's problem.

If he's less than totally cooperative I suppose I'll have to arrange a 'suicide' since another 'accident' so soon after his wife's would be suspicious. Perhaps it would be a mercy. He doesn't strike me as the emotionally solid type, more like a girly boy who found someone to shop with.

Who am I kidding? I saw that look between them. I could have _walked_ across the solidity of that gaze, they were so connected. If I felt incomplete that last time the more I think about it I think I was jealous. Bryce never looked at me like that. I never connected with him. I never felt like he was my other half. I just wanted to screw him and create a moment of time I didn't have to share with anyone – not even the man who was between my legs. Maybe I'm the one who's emotionally stunted.

Bryce always wanted more. I'd given him my body in more ways than most people could imagine but he still wanted more. He wanted me to tell him I loved him. He craved it. I know he 'loved' me. He told me all the time. But a lover would not expect _me_ to screw a mark and come home and screw him. A lover would never ask _me_ to risk my life while he observed mission protocols and 'watched'.

No. When Bryce Larkin said, "I love you, Sarah" while I drained him of the last of his juices he meant it like 'I love my new car' or 'I love this house' or even more trivially, 'I love what you've done with your hair'. He didn't know what true love was and I don't think I do, either. But Charles Bartowski knows. And I am jealous of him for that knowledge.

But I don't want to know, not really. To know but not to have would be devastating. And I can't _have_. Keeping my distance is what's kept me alive. A man might have my body for a time but no one will ever have _me. _ I keep _me_ far away, locked tightly in a little room, safe, protected and unassailable.

I am so lonely.

* * *

**December 19  
Casa Bartowski  
3am Saturday**

Chuck was awake and it had taken him a few seconds to realize that it hadn't been a horrible dream. He'd fallen asleep on the couch. He really had no place else to sleep. He couldn't, no scratch that, he wouldn't, go into their room. He still held on to his forlorn hope that so long as he didn't open that damned door she could still be in there, asleep, reading or doing anything other than waiting for the Crematorium to pick up her shell and provide the final service she'd requested.

"_Chuck, baby, I know this seems morbid and all, but if I die before you, I need you to promise me something. Promise me that you will do 3 things for me. And I won't tell you what they are until you give me your solemn word of honor, your pledge and vow, to honor them, no matter how weird, ridiculous or pointless they might seem today."_

"_Jesus, Lynn, you sure do know how to squelch the afterglow. You aren't sick, are you? You'd tell me if you were sick, wouldn't you? Is that what this whole 'promise' thing is about? You're sick and you're gonna die…"_

"_Oh, no, honey, it's nothing like that. It's just that I need to know that my 'last wishes' will be carried out. It's important to me. I'm just being practical. If we're going to get married someday I need you to know what's to be done with me if I pass before you. You big dummy, I'll outlive you but I want this done and behind us. Please promise me you'll do these three things. Please? For my peace of mind, Chuck, if for no other reason."_

Of course he promised. How could he do anything else? He loved her and would abide by her wishes no matter how 'out there' they might seem. After all, this _was_ California.

"_My love, the first thing will be the hardest for you and also the easiest. I want to be cremated. I want you to send a small container of my ashes to my grandfather. Even if he's dead, his clan will know what to do. I want a portion of me to be taken back to my ancestral homeland. The gods will be pleased and my journey in the afterlife made much easier. Do you promise to do this for me?"_

He'd agreed to do all three but he felt she needed his agreement on each issue. It wasn't so 'out there'. It was really quite normal in fact. He even had a brief daydream of two old people, one tall but bent and stooped and the other still straight and proud, green eyes flashing with mirth shopping for urns at the Urns-R-Us.

"_Secondly, I want my remaining ashes scattered into the sea where I surfed off the beach and where you and I now sit for hours talking and laughing until the sun sets. Then when you go there you will be able to see me in the sea and know I am always with you._

Another no brainer that required no thought. It appealed to him. It made sense to him. And if he went first, he had already decided to have his ashes scattered in the same place for much the same reasons. He told her he'd already decided to have that done with his ashes and she hugged him.

"_And lastly, my beloved round eye, no matter how great your pain, you must promise never to take your own life. Never. Furthermore, you must find another to share the joys and pain of this life. I do not want you to be without a life mate, Chuck. Not one second more than one year, got it, one year and then you better be out there finding my replacement, Chuck. Or I'll haunt your dreams and make your wang limp. I'll be a spirit then and can wreak mayhem upon you."_

Even though she tried to make light of it, Chuck was appalled and told her so.

"_Lynn, there is no way in hell I'll be out looking for a 'life mate' in one year or one thousand years. I've found her. I've found my other half. I will promise to do the first two but not the third, Lynn, you can't expect me to keep a promise like. And you can't expect me to live in a world without you. Release me from my vow. That was so fucking unfair of you to trick me like that. I can't, I won't do it. I don't care if you come back and haunt me. No wait, please, do come back and haunt me. If you're dead then your ghost is better than what I'll have left of you."_

"_Then I can't marry you, Chuck, and we should end this right now."_

She had given him back his ring and gotten dressed and left. He had no idea where she'd gone. He looked at her ring in the palm of his hand and knew he should promise to mourn for 1 year if only to have her for the next 50 years or so.

He had no concerns about deceiving her. She could not dictate to his heart. He would mourn her for 1,000 years if he lived so long. There was no one else in God's Universe who could make him feel like he felt. It _was_ a no-brainer and he knew the 'spirits' would forgive his deception and if they didn't, fuck 'em.

He threw on some clothes and a pair of flip-flops and grabbed his keys and stormed out of the room. He had to find her.

And he did. She was sitting on the couch, coffee cup in hand and crying silently with huge tears coursing down her cheeks. He always wondered how such a little person could create tears you could see individually from across a room.

He sat down beside her, took the coffee cup and put it on the coffee table and then picked her up and carried her back into their room and dropped her abruptly on to her side of the bed.

"_I promise, Lynn. One year. But I have a condition: if after your year of mourning I haven't found a replacement, I'm free of your accursed vow and can end my life if I so desire. But if you leave me again, all bets are off. And don't come back. I won't have you in my life if you think so little of my love for you and my commitment to you that you would throw it all away over an issue that will never occur in the next 50 years." _

"_Now put that ring back on and I don't ever want to see it off your finger again unless you are, indeed, dead in which case I'll need it for somebody else. And yes, I am being deliberately cruel because you deserve it for that underhanded crap. And I'll enjoy reminding you of this night in 50 years."_

He didn't know that Lynn had given Ellie two letters for him the very next day after their huge fight. His future wife had been very practical and left little to chance.

* * *

**December 19  
Casa Bartowski  
8:30am**

Chuck had been on hold with the Crematorium for 15 minutes. He didn't really mind. It was another way to avoid coming face-to-face with his dilemma. He was a widower at 26 and all the grand plans for finishing and marketing the game he'd designed were no longer important. In fact, if he never touched the keyboard again or wrote code, it would be too soon. He no longer cared. The game was supposed to be for them, not him.

'I guess I'll have to get used to living in the singular rather than the plural. At least for a while. I'm sure there's another crack head out there just itching to kill another innocent civilian for the few dollars in his wallet. Maybe I can find a cooperative one…'

Finally, someone asked 'for whom are you holding?' and when he explained his situation fully he was promptly but politely put on hold again. Manila's _Copacabana_ was on it's 4th repeat when an older gentleman came on the line.

After hearing Chuck's explanation of events and his specific needs and after the appropriate apologies and condolences for his loss he was assured his needs would be met and that if could come by and drop off a check the work and the final disposition of the loved one would commence immediately.

Chuck told him he'd be there by 10am with the check and he wanted to look at urns and vials so please make sure someone was available. He also told him that he needed to update his music-on-hold to something less dreary. He was being an ass but didn't care. Not one bit.

A red-faced Devon and a bemused Ellie came out into the kitchen. Devon's clothes looked like he'd slept in them and then Chuck remembered. "Thanks for last night, Devon. I appreciate it."

Ellie came over and gave him a hug and offered to make breakfast but was shocked into silence when he told her he had to go and make sure things were done right at the Crematorium plus he had to find an urn and vials to fulfill his promise. It wasn't that she'd forgotten, it was that her brother was so cold and matter of fact about the whole thing. Not at all what she'd expected. And then she further stepped in it by saying as much.

"Ellie, I can't hide from the facts. I tried that last night. Ask Devon how well that went over. I need to face facts. My wife and baby are dead. D-E-A-D. As in never coming home again, never surfing, never smiling, never... just never mind. I'm sorry. It's a bit much."

Devon had had no idea that Lynn was pregnant but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Ellie are you going in to work today? I mean, well, you don't need to miss work on account of me. I'm OK, really. I just wondered if you could help me get her clothes and stuff boxed up for the shelter. I think she'd like that and it's a week before Christmas and it would make her happy to know she'd brought some joy to someone out there. I just can't do it alone right now, sis, I'll be doing so much alone but I can't do this alone. Please?"

"Sure, Chuck, after you get back from the…after you get back from taking care of Lynn's…I'm sorry, Chuck. I'll help when you are ready. I-I-I'm sorry, Chuck. It's hard for me. I miss her, Chuck, I really do. I can't imagine what it's like for you. I'll go with you if you give me a few minutes to get dressed."

"No, Ellie, I'll go with Chuck. OK, Chuck? Ellie can get a start on the clothing and we'll pick up some cartons on the way back. Sound like a plan?" He gave Ellie a look that said 'you don't need to do this alone, wait for me.'

"Sure, Dev, I'd appreciate the company. So, Ellie, surprised this morning?" He smiled and it was a weak version of his usual smile but Ellie was thankful for even that.

"Yeah, pleasantly. But just so you know, Chuck, nothing happened. Really."

"You're wrong there, sis. A lot happened. You just haven't realized it yet." He winked at Devon while Ellie looked perplexed and worried.

"Devon, honey, is there something I need to know about last night?"

The look Devon shot Chuck would have slain cancer. Chuck just chuckled. He wanted those two back together. It had been Lynn's hope that they'd get married and Ellie wouldn't move back East. She knew it was selfish, but this was her family and it was falling apart around her. So, Chuck had made another vow. Get them back together; and Devon had made the first move without any 'counseling'.

* * *

**Crematorium  
Los Angeles, CA  
10:30am**

Chuck had asked the preparation attendant for a few moments alone. He took out a picture of them at the beach and tucked it into the bag. He gently removed both her wedding and engagement rings and put them on a chain around his neck.

He took off his wedding ring and put it in the palm of her hand and closed her fingers over it and murmured "I will always love you and you cannot stop me from doing so. I will keep my promise to you but don't expect miracles, Lynn. I'll do the best I can but don't expect any miracles. They seem to be in short supply. And take care of the little one until we meet again. I don't think it'll be too long, my love, I haven't found much in this world that appeals to me. It's kind of empty without you."

He kissed her closed eyes and chilled lips and motioned the attendant to close up the white cotton bag. He would never see her again in this life.

Devon stumbled out of the preparation room white-faced and trying not to vomit. He'd seen death in many forms but never had he seen a friend or relative and certainly not someone he had come to love as a sister, dead.

And he'd been shocked by Chuck's words. He needed to talk to Ellie about this.

**Casa Bartowski  
11am**

Ellie was worried. Devon had come back with Chuck and he looked like he'd seen his own ghost. When she asked her brother what was wrong with Devon he just smiled a soft smile and asked her if she didn't think talking to Devon would be more fruitful. After all it wasn't his puke all over Devon's pants. The he kissed his sister on the cheek and said he had things to do and not to hold dinner. And not to worry. He was going to be fine.

She immediately went into Doctor Mode but Devon squelched her fussing with one sentence. "Ellie, I don't know what I'd do if that was you in that bag."

She sat down on the couch beside him and looked him dead in the eyes. "Tell me what happened, Devon, all of it, don't leave out one word. Tell me about last night and then today."

**11:30am**

He drove back to the Crematorium after dropping a shaken Devon off at Ellie's. He hadn't realized that Devon would take this so hard and it bothered him that he seemed to be getting used to it. Then he realized it was because he had no choice. This was his life. When the others went home, they had their lives waiting for him. All he had was emptiness and time. These tasks filled his time and for that he was grateful.

Christmas was just around the corner. He'd already gotten Lynn her gift. He would return it before Christmas. He didn't plan on being around the apartment. His mood would kill anyone's joy and he had no right to do that. He'd borrow Ellie's car and maybe drive up the coast and check out the surf and maybe get a couple sets in.

He had picked out an urn and 3 glass vials and a small wooden box about the size of a pack of cigarettes. It was ornately carved and would serve its purpose. They had been wrapped and packaged when he returned. He thanked the receptionist of her courtesy and took his wife's remains and left. Thank God that was over.

Sarah Walker had been following Chuck Bartowski since he'd left his apartment the second time after dropping off an unidentified man. She'd taken a couple of digital photographs and would leave the memory stick with Casey for identification.

She would have to have a digital GPS system installed in the Porsche if she was going to be Bartowski's handler. There was no way she could navigate L.A.'s traffic without one. She took pride in the fact that she hadn't lost him in traffic even when he took a series of turns that to a spy would have signified verifying a tale. Since he wasn't a spy, she figured he was just killing time.

She had followed him to the crematorium and was surprised when he came out just a few moments later with one large package and several small ones. She suspected the contents and would bet her salary that this was his second trip here today. Apparently he was made of sterner stuff than his companion had been. Or he was just keeping it all at bay since he had no choice.

She realized he was lost when he pulled into a convenience store and went in and spoke with the clerk and then came out and turned back the way he'd come. Apparently he was looking for something he was unfamiliar with and had gotten turned around. He got high marks in her book for having the sense to ask directions, something Bryce would never do. He'd never admit to being lost. Not Mr. Perfect.

She almost blew her surveillance when he turned into a small alley and drove down between old buildings and stopped and got out of the car. She used the telescopic lens on her camera to take in the scene. He apparently pulled a bell cord and after a few minutes delay he opened the wrought iron gate and disappeared inside.

Sarah quickly parked and locked her car and almost ran to the gate. She was shocked to see that it was the entrance to an oriental temple of some sort. She could see the mark talking with a saffron-robed monk and then he was led into a side room. She kept up her surveillance and a few minutes later he reemerged barefooted and wearing a belted white robe.

He approached an altar of some sort, kneeled and clapped his hands 3 times and lit an incense burner and a joss stick. He waved the joss in a complex pattern and stuck in a holder. The he reached into his robes and brought out a small box and placed it on the altar and bowed and clapped his hand 3 more times.

Several monks came out of the room and formed a line behind the mark, effectively masking him from view. They began some weird chant while another monk walked over to a huge cylindrical bell and struck it with a cloth-enclosed mallet. It pealed a sad note of mourning and the chanting of the monks grew in volume until they were almost shouting. The bell was struck again and the chanting stopped, the monks filed back into the room and the mark followed them.

He came out a few seconds later dressed again in western clothing and bowed to the old monk who embraced him after returning his bow. Bartowski looked once more at the altar and then the monk said something, embraced him again and turned and left him standing.

He walked slowly back to his car and Sarah could see from her telescopic vantage that although his eyes were red he appeared to be smiling.

'Must have been a Buddhist thing for his wife. The monks seemed to expect him and the old monk seemed to like him. They must not see many round eyes here except as nosy tourists. I don't think I need to investigate this. It's obviously a funeral rite or something.'

She followed him at a safe distance as he drove back to Burbank staying mostly to side streets. He made a stop at a jewelry store and emerged with two very small packages and then drove straight back to his apartment.

When she was sure he was going to stay a while she went into the courtyard and knocked on Major Casey's door.

* * *

**John Casey's Apartment  
3:40pm**

"Agent Walker, a pleasure to be working with you. I assume you've met this Bartowski? What do you think? Does he have the intersect?"

"Major, I won't know for certain until I can run a couple of controlled trials using visual triggers that are stored in the intersect and a bunch that mean crap. I'll do that as soon as the opportunity presents itself. Probably after they spread the ashes on Monday."

"Oh, you know about that? Buncha hippie crap. Probably sing folk songs and release doves or some such hooey. I ran your pictures over the system. He's the former fiancé of Bartowski's sister, Eleanor. His name is Devon Woodcomb and he has high-powered parents, Agent. A federal prosecutor and a state assemblywoman. He's finishing up a fellowship here at the hospital in some drug trials relating to transplant rejection. He's an MD too, just like Bartowski's sister. He got the fellowship and they had a falling out and she threw him out. Didn't matter that he was already working on it, she just assumed she was entitled and threw a hizzy fit. Don't know much more than that. He's clean."

"I haven't had a chance to put any surveillance in place other than the entrances and the courtyard. There's no access from the rear of the units so it's pretty much a secure frontal operation. I'll slip in on Monday and bug the crap out of the place. Do you figure you'll be able to make your determination on Monday?"

"If not sooner. I have a feeling he's going to leave soon and head out to the beach. He's very meticulous in his actions so I'm sure he's going to want to site survey the beach for Monday morning. You'll have to let me know when he does. Have you put GPS on his sister's car? He's been using it to get around town today. He had quite a few errands to run so I'm hoping he's tired and will just crash for the night. I'm still on DC time and I'm bushed. Call me if he leaves, Major, and let's get the GPS on the vehicles. Include the ex-fiance's too. You never know when he might borrow his car."

"Will do. I'll call you if he rabbits. I think this will be an interesting assignment."

"So do I. And I'm surprised. I didn't think it would amount to much but here we are. I'll see you later, Major. Thanks for the updates. Enjoy the Christmas specials on the tv…" and she laughed as she made her way to her Porsche. Holidays were hard for agents. Most didn't have families and for some the holidays brought up bad memories. She was no different.

**Residential Hotel  
5:40pm Saturday**

"Walker, secure,"

"Casey, secure. Your boy's on the move. Wearing a wet suit and has a board and heading for the beach. Bundle up and make contact. Maybe we can make a decision before Monday and I have to go back to that damned Geek farm called the BuyMore."

"I'll try. Damn it's cold out there. Is he trying to commit suicide or what?"

"Don't pick freezing. I've heard that 'you go to sleep' is crap and you're really hurting the whole time up until your heart stops. So bundle up, Blondie."

* * *

**Malibu Beach  
6:30pm**

Chuck didn't feel the cold. His wet suit was proof against it. Once in the water the coldest parts of him would be his hands, feet and face but he could handle it. There was a storm about 35 miles off the coast and it was sure to produce sizeable waves. He would surf as if he still had a partner and would quit only when he was exhausted. He had a plan. Work himself into exhaustion then sleep. Get up the next day and do it again. No time available for crying or sulking on what might have been. No. He would live life to the fullest for her.

He had decided this morning that he would complete the game and leave the BuyMore. Too many painful memories. He didn't care what people thought about his leaving. If the truth was not enough then they could just go to hell. He was done pleasing the masses. Now everything was focused on the here and now. Just like she lived and had bugged him to do. But no, he was a planner, a plodder, who went from Position A to Position B and so on. He had missed so much of life. And because she was loyal, so had she.

Lynn had always wanted to skydive but he'd gotten in her way, of course. Well, he had found her list of things she wanted them to try and he would do one a week until the list was complete or he'd died doing some crazy-assed stunt his wife thought would be 'fun'.

He could just imagine her out here with him today.

"_Let's go, Chuck. Surf's up. It's not cold. It's invigorating." _And then she would laugh her full-throated laugh and tear into the water and just become one with it_._

"_Come on, Chuck. Time's a-wasting. Move your bony butt, surfer boy. You drive like an old lady. I could walk faster."_

He parked the car and pulled the board off its roof rack and walked down to the waterline. The waves were definitely up and the wind was whipping the tops of the waves into caps before they rolled over into tubes of crushing water.

'_Surf's up, Chuck. Let's go. Move it, it's getting late and we'll lose the tide.'_

"Quit nagging me, woman. I'm on the way." He waded out into the water until it was waist deep and then got on the board and started paddling out through the surf line. The rollers were like a rank of soldiers beating him down but he finally pulled his way through and out into the relative calm of the preset and positioned the board facing Japan and waited for the next set to build up. He could see flashes of lightning on the distant horizon.

"_Wait for just the right one, Chuck. Don't be impatient. The right one. She's out there, Chuck. Just be patient._

Sarah Walker pulled in beside Chuck's vehicle and stepped out of the warm cabin of her sports car into the frigid winter of California's Oceanside. She was immediately chilled and pulled her leather coat tighter against her to keep out the biting wind. She could see the mark about 100 yards offshore, sitting on his board watching the building waves. 'How can he stand this cold? It's got to be 45 degrees in that water. He must be nuts.'

She saw him suddenly appear alert and start to paddle his board around as the next set came in. She watched the waves climb up to 10 feet and sweep in toward the shoreline. He was on his board just in front of the rise and cutting across at an angle. The wave started to curl in the center and he cut back into the forming tube disappearing from sight. The wave collapsed of it's own weight and surged up to the beach until it was just an inch or less deep. There was no sign of the mark.

Suddenly she wasn't cold. She ran down the shoreline looking out into the water but couldn't see him. Nothing. No body, no board, nothing. She hadn't dressed for running in sand. She had on calf leather boots with 3-inch stiletto heels and she might have well been wearing bricks.

_When the tube collapsed Chuck just went for the ride. There was nothing else to do. He had heard Lynn call out a warning and he'd cut back into the closing tube almost to spite her. Now he tumbled over the sand and rock layers that formed from the constant motion of the waves. He'd lost the board someplace but couldn't worry about it now. The suit caught on a sharp projection and tore from mid-back to the top of his right shoulder. The sudden influx of water through the rent in the suit was almost heart stopping. Instinct took over and he started clawing his way to the surface hearing her voice screaming at him to keep pulling and not to give up._

Sarah Walker was frantic and had no idea why. If the mark drowned a lot of problems would be solved and she could go back to being a deep cover operative instead of a geek sitter. If he drowned it wouldn't matter if he'd absorbed the intersect, a feat more than 20 men had died to accomplish. Statistically, Charles Bartowski was 1 in a billion.

Twenty yards to her right she saw the mark stand up in waist deep water and turn and shout something to the waves but the wind snatched the words from the air and she couldn't tell what was said. She walked over to where she figured he'd leave the water and waited for him. Poseidon rising from the sea. When he turned to face the incoming waves again she saw a gash running from above his shoulder blade down through the midline of his back. Blood was running freely down the wetsuit and she had the ridiculous urge to sing the theme to _Jaws._

"Hey, hey you, you nuts or something? Those waves are killers. You need help? You're hurt. Come on, I got a blanket in my car and the heater there is incredible."

"What? I can't hear you over the wind. I'm fine. Take your well-dressed self away from my beach and leave me alone. I'd almost done it, Goddamn it, and she messed it up. Damn her and her promises." The last two sentences were shouted out in rage and despair.

"Hey, c'mon. Let me give you a hand up to my car. Or your car. I see your board made it back safely. Let's go fetch it and get warm. I thought California was supposed to be warm? My God it's cold. I need warm. Now. So move your bony butt, surfer boy, and let's get your board and get off this beach and out of this wind."

Sarah took a step back when he whirled on her, eyes wild and threatening but he recognized her fear and turned to get his board and head out again.

"Bartowski, stop, this won't bring your wife back. Suicides don't go to heaven, damn it. You'll miss her for all eternity. Stop this nonsense right now. It's not what she wants for you, please, don't do this. Please." She heard the pleading tone in her voice and was shocked. Why did she care so much about this mark? He wasn't anything special. He wasn't even her type.

Chuck stopped, maybe it was the desperation in her tone, and maybe it was the loneliness in her voice. The final "Please" broke his resolve and he went down on his knees and just looked out at the crashing surf, defeated.

Sarah unzipped first one boot and then the other, pulled them off and walked in the cold, wet sand and plopped down next to her mark.

"Trust me, Bartowski. Please, trust me. I need you to trust me and I need you alive. You're all I have on this mission. I can't trust my partner and I'm not sure I can trust my self, but I will not betray your trust, Bartowski. There's something happening here that I don't understand but I will never break my trust with you. It's important that you understand that, I don't give my word lightly nor do you."

"Let's get out of this wind and take you home. Your sister's going to get to use her fancy medical degree and stitch up about 15 inches of your back. I imagine she's going to be mighty pissed at you, Bartowski."

"Chuck."

"What? I can't hear you over the wind and surf. What?"

"I said its Chuck, just Chuck."

"Ok, I'm Sarah and after your sister gets done with you, we have to talk, please. Just an hour, maybe two at the most. If you're lucky, you'll never see me again." 'And if you're not, then welcome to Hell, Chuck Bartowski, welcome to Hell' thought Sarah Walker, CIA Agent.

Chuck didn't pretend to understand her obsession with his trusting her but if it got her off his ass and out of his life then he'd trust her until he was rid of her. Two hours? Easy as cake.

They left his car at the beach lot figuring it was a lot less likely to be stripped than her Porsche. Getting to his apartment took a lot less than it did before. Of course, she drove like a banshee.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
8:15pm**

She parked on the berm in front of the apartment and went around and opened his door. He hadn't said 2 words the entire trip back but he occasionally looked at her, closed his eyes and then opened them. Sometimes they looked like they'd just seen unspeakable horror, other times he looked like he wanted to take her in his arms and just rock her. His eyes were that expressive and she was that good at reading them.

They walked up through the courtyard and Sarah banged on the front door. She was supporting him and doing a poor job of it. He was still on his feet but it was doubtful he'd be able to walk more than another 20 feet before he finally gave up and passed out.

Ellie opened the door and yelled for Devon. Chuck opened his eyes and cut her a big grin. "So Captain Awesome's staying for dinner? Cool. This is Sarah; she's staying, too, so set another plate, Eleanor Faye. And can we please come in? Sarah's hauled my ass out of the Pacific, up the beach and now up to the apartment. I think she needs to sit down, right, Sarah?"

"I think he's in shock, Doctor Bartowski. He has a severe laceration from the top of his scapula to the midline. Probably needs 15-20 stitches. Possibly some muscle damage also."

Devon took Chuck from Sarah and put his arm around his back, unaware of the bleeding gash. Chuck gasped and his eyes rolled up and he was out cold.

Sarah looked Chuck, now limp in the other man's arms.

"He must have a tremendous pain threshold to have held on this long. Dr. Bartowski, I promised him I'd tell you 'no hospitals, Ellie, I've had my fill of them' if you were going to suggest the ER. He was pretty specific and adamant. After you're done stitching him up I think you and I need to talk for a bit. It's about what he said in the ocean when he was going back in to finish what he'd started."

Devon looked at Ellie who had turned pale as a ghost. "Oh, my, Devon, maybe you were right. Maybe he was going to kill himself."

"No, he wasn't. He fought too hard to get out of the riptide and up onto the beach. I think he was trying to do something that he felt was expected of him. He's lost his wife and he's lost himself. He needs an anchor, a rock. Apparently he thought she was out there waiting for him."

"My brother is not a nutcase, just a man whose love has left him with an bearable burden of a promise."

Ellie walked in to her bedroom to find something while Devon was busy stitching Chuck up.

"You know, you did save his life. He might not have been trying to kill himself but the surf, the tidal surge and his exhaustion would have ended him for sure. And I'm not surprised by his tolerance for pain. He's had a lot of it and just keeps on keeping on. He's kind of incredible that way. But please, don't tell him I told you that. I don't think he's got an ego so it would only serve to make him feel guilty somehow. He's a helluva guy. He's just doesn't know or believe it himself."

Ellie came back with two envelopes. One had been opened, the other was still sealed.

"I'll read this. There are some parts that are purely girl stuff and I'll skip that. We were like sisters.

_Dear Sis:_

_I did something terrible to Chuck tonight. I've had a premonition and I've been thinking about death a lot lately. And that's strange for a woman who is about to begin her life with her soul mate. I made him promise to do three things for me when I die. First he is not to mourn me one day more than 1 year, not to consider taking his own life and I required that he find another after 1 year of mourning. It is the way of my ancestors and I wanted to share that with Chuck. _

_I tricked him into giving his word, his vow, and it almost ended us. He became very angry and demanded I release him from his word since he had no intention of seeking another in this life. I gave him back his ring and told him I could not marry him if he did not agree to seek a life mate after one year. I left but he found me. He agreed but put his own conditions on his promise. If he had not found 'a replacement' within the year of mourning he was free to end his life. And I agreed._

_Oh, Ellie it was a stupid thing to do but I wanted him to be free of me if I died to seek a life mate. I don't want him alone, Ellie. He's too good and giving to be alone. Please help your little sis and talk to him when I go. Make him understand my reasoning. I love him and I want him happy, Ellie, nothing more. Just happy._

_Lin_

He wasn't trying to kill himself, Miss Walker, he wouldn't break his word. Now in 364 days I'll be worried. But not now. He never breaks his oath, his promise. He's hard-wired that way. He should have been born in the 5th century. He'd have fit right in. Duty, honor, country, family. Those are important to him. They are not mere words. So he just has had a really bad day. But thank God you were there. You saved my little brother."

**Sarah's POV**

I can't believe she's telling me all this. She doesn't know me. He doesn't know me. I just happened to be there and that's not totally untrue. I just happened to be following my mark because it's my job.

I can relate to what Lynn did. Put a binding obligation on her lover to be happy. I can understand that. I wish someone had done that to me. I just don't understand this drama about suicide in a year if he hasn't found a replacement.

He's a dead man because what they had doesn't come along twice in anyone's lifetime. No, he's toast.

Too bad. He could make someone very happy, too. Where is _my_ Chuck Bartowski?  


* * *

EndGreenEyedGirl3


	4. Dreams and Flashes and White Orchids

GreenEyedGirl4

_A/N: Greetings from Tampa Bay,FL. Here's another installment as promised. I haven't been checking so I don't have a clue whether anyone's even commenting. No big deal. Just something I had to get out of me._

_Don't look for another for a while. Going outside the line and taking a route out into the winds of the Gulf, it'll be farther but faster once I catch the winds and current to the Keys. _

_Oye, Waffleman, I may be in PR want to buy me breakfast?_

_Armor-Plated-Rat_

_19 June, 2009  
_Tampa Bay Anchorage

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
December 20  
Sunday Morning  
6:00am**

He was awake. One moment he'd been asleep, comfortable in not knowing what had been, was and is. Now all the awareness crashed down on him. Lynn was dead. Her spirit journey blessed at the temple. The small box secure in his desk containing her grandfather's "share" of his granddaughter awaiting packaging and mailing. He had to find someone in Chinatown to write the letter for him. Lynn could do calligraphy but he didn't have a clue what the squiggles meant. Just the one on his thigh and over his heart.

He was in their bed lying face down. Her scent still lingered and that comforted him. Yesterday at the beach he was sure he'd heard her shout a warning as he cut back in front of the wave and slipped into the tube. He hadn't planned on it collapsing as quickly as it had. He remembered a woman helping him out of the water and bringing him home.

Sarah. Sarah Walker. Agent Sarah Walker of the CIA who couldn't trust her Agency or her partner any longer but asked him to trust her and offering her trust in return. A crazy, mixed-up situation for sure. And she needed to talk to him about something important.

He rolled off the bed to answer the inevitable call of nature and felt the sting of flesh tugging on sutures and the tape pulling on is back as he bent over to grab a t-shirt. He turned around and saw his back reflected in the mirror and the two feet of dressing and surgical tape that held it in place. Oh, yeah, the rock ledge he whacked on his wild ride to short. That had to have left a mark.

He finger-combed his hair and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. He'd have to find out what damage he'd done before attempting a shower. No sense pissing Ellie off first thing in the morning. It would be a long enough day without Ellie-drama starting it off.

His thoughts wandered back to the beautiful blonde who had apparently saved his worthless hide after his surfing disaster last evening. Surf's up, my ass. Lynn's nuts for riding those big waves. One of these days she was going to… Stop! Idiot. She's dead. She won't be riding waves or filing her nails or scrubbing your back. She's dead. Get a grip, you loser. She's in an urn in the backseat of Ellie's car. She's in a small box waiting to be mailed. She's in 3 glass vials waiting for their chains.

He focused on Agent Walker. Why would the CIA need to talk to him? When they'd first encountered each other at the BuyMore he'd had the strange feeling he knew a lot more about her than he did. And yesterday in the car, coming back from the beach, he'd seen horrible things, marvelous things like memories. Only they couldn't be memories. They were her experiences. Assassinations, photographing documents, successful mission reports, seductions and extortion, her sting of victories and her various partners. She'd been partnered with that RatBastard Bryce Larkin. I wonder if she knows he's banging Jill Roberts?

He 'flashed' on Sarah Walker again. There was no other word that fit the experience. It was like a sudden flash of light and the information poured into his head always preceded by an image. In her case, a delicate white orchid.

It was weirding him out. He didn't know whether to mention it or not. Surely she wouldn't want to share any of those experiences with a total stranger.

Was it telepathy?

She said she needed an hour or two hours of his time at the most and if all went well, he'd never see her again. If _what _went well? What if it didn't? He'd call her this morning after he got Devon to drive him out to pick up Ellie's car at the beach lot.

Right now he needed coffee and something solid in his stomach. Fuel for another long day full of well-meaning people and non-essential tasks.

Maybe he'd hang at the beach and watch the surf for a while. He was counting on Devon being here but now he wasn't so sure if he was still here or not. Maybe he'd just get Agent Walker to drive him out there and he could kill two birds with one stone. Get that chat out of the way and retrieve Ellie's car.

Devon Woodcomb heard Chuck stumbling around in the kitchen. The doctor in him felt compelled to get up and check on his patient. The man in him simply wanted to continue to enjoy the early morning sights and sounds of the Bartowski household, especially Ellie's bedroom. His naked ex-fiancé was entangled with him and the sheets. He wanted her as his wife, not a sack-mate. The damned clinicals were soon ever and he'd have more time but she was leaving in January for Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Long distance romances never worked out. He had no idea what to do. Soon it would be too late for them.

He untangled himself from the still-sleeping Ellie and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and wandered out to check on his patient. Last night had been…interesting to say the least. Who'd have believed that Chuck's guardian angel would be a Vice President of an investment firm? She'd expressed an interest in Chuck's possible game when they'd been chitchatting while he stitched Chuck's back up. He had left her card on the coffee table for Chuck to give her a call.

"Morning, Chuck. How's the back feel? I need to check it and make sure none of the sutures pulled during the night. Off with the shirt, dude."

"Morning, O' Great Healer, I don't think any popped. I don't think I moved a muscle all night. What good drugs was I on?"

"None at all, Chuck, just an accumulation of tension, sleeplessness and exhaustion. That was a dumbassed thing to do, Chuck. Water's too cold and the surf was a killer, almost for sure in your case. So, tell me, how did you rate a gorgeous blonde baywatch babe to pull your sorry ass out of the surf?"

"Yeah, she's a looker but cold inside man. An ice queen. Got serious issues, Devon, and I don't even want to be close to those. I doubt I'll see her again. I wanted to apologize for bleeding all over her Porsche and thank her for holding me back from the next set. I wasn't thinking straight. Could have been bad news and Ellie's had enough of that."

Chuck changed the subject. He didn't want to involve his family with the CIA agent. It was bad enough she'd been to his apartment and met his family.

"Well, Chuck, you're wrong. She's coming over sometime this morning to take you out for coffee and talk about possible funding for a start-up game company, your game company. That's impressive, Chuck. Here's her card. Call and set up the time. She's staying here in L.A. at a company hotel suite."

Humph, at least she used her right name on her business card. Chuck set it back on the coffee table while Devon removed the dressing and checked the sutures.

"You pulled one a little loose but not enough to warrant restitching. Damn, I was looking forward to pulling some 5-0 silk through you again."

"Dev, what's up with you and Ellie? You going to re-engage?" He laughed at his joke. Lynn had helped him develop a sense of humor although it was very dry.

"Don't know what I'm going to do about her. She's going to JH and I'm staying here. Long distance romances never work out. I'd be fooling myself if I said we'd be different. Time and circumstances change feelings, Chuck."

"I trust her but I know that eventually I'd lose her to some guy who was there, not a voice on the phone. I wouldn't be here now if it hadn't been for what happened to Lynn. I mean, hell, you know what I mean. I'm not taking advantage of the situation, honest man. That would be a shitty thing to do."

"Can you run me out to the beach to get Ellie's car? We sorta flew back in Sarah's Porsche. Fastest I've gone on the ground in my whole life. She had this feral grin on her face. Man, that chick loves to go fast. I wonder if she's done any formula one stuff?"

* * *

The object of their attention was still asleep in the throes of a nightmare.

She was running down the beach in heels and an evening gown with her pistol in hand chasing a man in a wet suit carrying a surfboard. When he dove into the water and began paddling his board out through the first line of breaking waves she emptied her weapon into his back without apparent result. She reached into her small opera purse and took out a 9mm Uzi and sprayed the man, his board and the surrounding ocean.

When his body washed up on shore she turned him over and screamed at him _"Why did you make me do that? Why did you run? Why?"_

He opened his eyes and said_, "I trusted you. That's why I ran. I trusted you to do your duty and you have. Now let me die. Go back to Bryce. He 'loves' you and his new car. And say 'hello' to his other partner for me, won't you?"_

"_No, no, don't die. I just found you. And don't trust me. Ever. I'll always do my duty and accomplish my mission. I'll cut you and laugh while you bleed but I'll always love you."_

She hardly ever dreamed or if she did, hardly ever acknowledged it. This dream rattled her sense of purpose. She killed her asset after asking him to trust her and she knew Bryce had a new partner and she killed her asset even though she loved him. What questions was her subconscious trying to deal with in this dream?

She fell back to sleep, restless for the first 20 minutes until slipping into REM sleep.

The dream this time was softer and much more comforting.

_She was spooned against her lover's back and her hands were busy teasing his nipples while her lips nipped and sucked at his ear lobes and pulse point at the base of his neck. _

_She placed feather kisses over his shoulders and down his back until she reached the fresh line of sutures…_

She awoke up with a start. Her pulse was racing and she was incredibly aroused. The dream had seemed so real and the way she felt about her dream lover was still a bittersweet echo in her mind. She had loved him.

She dug through her purse and found the small white envelope an agency doctor had given her 'off the books' and shook out a small yellow pill. She dry-swallowed the pill and moved to the other side of the bed and tried to go back to sleep. The tranquilizer should begin to work in a few moments. It was strong stuff. Agents don't dream. Sarah Walker was an agent. Therefore, Sarah Walker didn't dream. But she did dream. Thus the pills.

**Malibu BeachParking Lot  
Sunday 7:45am**

Devon pulled in beside Ellie's car at the beach lot. It looked like it was still intact with Chuck's board still leaning against the side where apparently Agent Walker had thrown it.

"Say Devon, what are your plans for Christmas? Going to take a big bird back East to the family or going to gut it out here in California? Because if you don't have plans, I'd like you to come for Christmas dinner and all that stuff. It would mean a lot to me because I need all the family I got left this Christmas. It's going to a bleak week for me. I understand being with Ellie might be a prob…"

"Chuck, just clear it with Ellie and let me know when you want to see me. I'll need to check my sew job from time to time. It's not an imposition. You're my friend, as well as my used-to-be-almost-brother-in-law. So just call me and let me know."

"Thanks, Devon. Especially for the support last night. Man, Ellie can go from zero to sixty in no time. Glad you were there to control the EllieRage."

"She was just worried. You're all she's got left. And man, she's carrying a huge burden of guilt over leaving you in January. Seriously, dude, maybe you should think about moving to the East coast, too. Maybe leaving all this behind would help you start fresh."

Chuck had never considered that. All the memories of Lynn were here. But so were all the painful reminders. But his sister deserved her shot at happiness and if it wasn't going to be with Devon then the East coast was where she'd find it. Neither of them had ever been really alone, they'd always had each other.

"I'll think about that, Dev. I really will. Thanks for the ride. And if Miss Walker calls before I'm back, have her call my cell."

Maybe moving to Baltimore would help Ellie adjust to all the changes in her life. Losing Devon and then Lynn had really stirred up her life. Ellie liked order, predictability, and sameness. They were like two sides of the same coin. He bored easily, craved new experiences and liked _pleasant_ surprises in his life. His sister had always been there for him, maybe now it was time to repay his debt.

He restacked his board and looked out at the surf. Gnarly. Huge waves. He should have brought his wet suit. He unlocked the car, pulled a blanket from the back seat and headed down to the water's edge for some thinking time. There was a lot to decide and little time to do it. He'd have to game out the options for his move to Baltimore, staying here, or trying to get Devon and Ellie back together. He knew they were sleeping together but he didn't know if that included sex. If it did, then Ellie and Devon were a shoe-in. His sister was nobody's fuck-buddy.

**December 20  
Sunday Morning  
9:45am**

Chuck had optimized all the possible decision paths and had always come to the same conclusion: he would stay in California. He'd also run all the possibilities for Ellie/Devon and found that the most likely scenario would be Ellie goes to Baltimore and Devon joins her, although not right away. He also knew that the success ratio for Ellie/Devon would be enhanced if Ellie were unaccompanied. She didn't need the little-brother-widower-millstone hanging around her neck and his absence would enhance a rapprochement between Ellie and Devon more rapidly. He'd have to let this all gel in the back of his mind but he was fairly certain that these were the options yielding the highest probability of success.

Sarah woke feeling unfocused. She knew it was a side effect of the tranquilizer she'd taken and was not alarmed. It would dissipate within minutes. Another advantage of government-supplied drugs. She had to contact the mark and set a meeting time and place, preferably one where she could control his movements if the situation required sanction. She didn't think it would but she'd learned to be prepared for any possibility.

She ran through her personal fitness routine that she'd developed over the years. First some fast-paced aerobics, then some isometrics followed by a mix of Yoga and Pilates and as a cooling down exercise a routine of T'ai Chi.

She took a quick shower and washed her hair. Once they'd agreed to a meeting place she'd select her wardrobe. Until then, Mother Nature's own would do fine. Agent Walker felt ready for anything the situation might require.

Chuck took out his iPhone and Agent Walker's card. Better not call her 'Agent' since her card said Vice President. He'd opt for 'Ms' since she seemed like a modern sort of girl. He dialed her number and she answered on the 2nd ring.

"Ms. Walker, Chuck Bartowski. I 'm calling regarding your message about a meeting to discuss possible funding for my start-up. What would be a convenient time?"

"I can be at your apartment in 20 minutes and we can find a coffee shop or a restaurant for a brunch. Have you eaten yet?"

"Yes. Been at it since 6am. Early bird and all that crap. Thank you for the assist last evening. I appreciate your candor and consideration. And I'm sorry I bled all over your Porsche. I'll be happy to pay for the detailing if you'll send me a bill for it."

"Already taken care of. The…Company I work for took care of it over night. But thank you for the offer, it was sweet of you. And how are you feeling? Stiff and sore, I'll bet."

"Nope. Slept well, stitches are intact which disappointed the hell out of Devon and I'm at the scene of the crime planning out the next few days and weeks. Should have brought my spare wet suit. Wave action is gnarly with breaks north and south and 12 foot combers."

Sarah almost dropped the phone when he said 'scene of the crime'. "You're at the beach, wasn't last night enough?" Yeah, I killed you there in my dreams. What's that say about me?

"I do my best thinking here plus I had to recover the board and Ellie's car. It's a piece of shit but she loves it. I hope she buys a new one in Baltimore."

"Ellie's moving? To Baltimore? Why? I thought she and Dr. Woodcomb were getting married?"

"Well, Devon and Ellie were in competition for the same fellowship on a drug trials rotation and Devon got it. Ellie lost her mind and threw him out and then threw his ring at him. But when…my wife died, Devon came over to offer his help and has been here ever since. I hope they can reconcile but I figure it's going to take Ellie going to Baltimore to force a confrontation and re-engagement."

"And just how did you arrive at that stunning conclusion, Mr. Bartowski?" She was truly interested. She wanted to see first hand how the mark's mind worked.

"Are you sure you want to know the process?" He laughed for probably the first time since Lynn's death.

"Yes. Amaze me." She almost laughed. His laugh was infectious. And delightful.

"Well, in game theory there are …" and 15 minutes later "that's how I reached my conclusions. Are you suitably impressed, Ms. Walker?" A long pause ensued. "…Or are you asleep?" Again the laugh.

"I'm here and I am amazed. I've been taking notes. This is an incredible tool for decision making and you developed this for your game?" She could see applications for the Agency, the military and commercial ventures. It _was _incredible and she _was _amazed. Her mark was no geek. He was a freaking genius.

"And you thought this up all by your sweet self?" She blushed but the words were already out there. Where did that come from? She didn't need to sweet talk this mark. He would be upfront. It wasn't in his character to be deceitful.

He laughed. "Yes, although there were many unrelated pieces just lying around. I developed the core and found existing modules of code and theory in various places and connected the dots and voila… there it was." He laughed again. He loved teaching.

'Quit flirting with him, Walker. It's not necessary. He loves what he does and likes explaining things. Just shut up and listen and learn. Get your head in the game.' Her Agent Walker alter ego yelled in her ear.

"Mr. Barto…"

"Chuck, Miss Walker, Chuck."

"OK, Chuck, I'd like to have that discussion with you today if possible. Is there a convenient time and place we could get together for an hour or two?"

"You could come here but I doubt your wardrobe leans toward warm and fuzzy clothes so why don't you pick the time and place and I'll be there. I just have to return the car and take a limited shower and I'm at your disposal. Call me when you're ready."

"Sounds like a plan. Get clean, surfer boy and I'll call you back in a bit. I'll even pick you up, how's that?"

"As long as you keep the tach below 6500 and the speed somewhere near the legal limit. This isn't the Cannonball, you know."

"Last night I was worried about you. I'm entitled to speed when you're hurt. So get over it. Talk with you later, Chuck."

Both Chuck and Sarah stared at their phones. That had been a most unusual conversation.

'You were flirting with him. Disgusting. 'surfer boy'? 'I'm entitled to speed when you're hurt'? You were flirting with him.'

"So what. It made me happy" grunted her subconscious.

**Casa Bartowski  
2pm**

Sarah Walker and Chuck Bartowski walked through the courtyard of the apartment complex to her car. It seemed to her that Ellie was uncomfortable with being alone with Devon and Chuck seemed to sense it also but thought it was funny. She asked him about it when they were in the car.

"Honestly, Ms. Walker, she's afraid she'll fold like a house of cards and just drag him to the bedroom within 2 minutes of our departure. Devon's old school. He might have slept in her bed but that's all he'd done. Must have been hell for him though. Ellie sleeps in the nude, has since she was 8. Used to freak me out but now I'm used to it. I don't even 'see' her anymore."

'Maybe the family's not so normal after all.' Sarah smiled to herself as they pulled into the lot of her hotel. She'd decided to conduct the interview in her room since she had no idea of his response to either the trauma of retrieval of data if the download had been absorbed by him and the consequences of a successful download on him personally.

If she had to eliminate him, a cleaner crew was only a couple of floors away and no civilians would be affected. She could always change rooms if the sanction got violent or physical.

She glanced at her mark. He seemed relaxed but pensive. He wasn't jabbering away like he'd been in the car and that was somewhat unnerving. A quiet Charles Bartowski was difficult to read. The elevator arrived at her floor and she led the way to her suite of rooms.

She unlocked the door and triggered internal monitoring by keying a sequence of innocuous light switches inside the door.

"Make yourself comfortable. I have _got _to get out of these boots."

Chuck took a seat in the small alcove sitting area. The room was absolutely sterile and he had little doubt that the CIA had every recording device known to man trained on him at that very moment. He laughed to himself while he briefly considered either flipping them off or picking his nose and flinging a goober at where he suspected a lens had flashed in a flower arrangement on the sideboard. Put away childish things, Chuck.

Sarah returned less the sleek skirt and blouse now wearing jeans and a Georgetown Hoyas sweatshirt.

"So, Agent Walker, let's talk about why the CIA is interested in me, an average guy with a dead end job whose greatest claim to fame is getting kicked out of Stanford for something he didn't do and losing his fiancé to the RatBastard Bryce Larkin all within 2 weeks of one another. I'm curious. Please enlighten me."

She noticed the change in title. He's mentally prepared. Let's see just how prepared.

"You received an email from Bryce Larkin that contained some secret intelligence files that were automatically downloaded into the long-term memory area of your brain that specializes in visual memory. Depending on how much was transmitted and how receptive you were, you may have in your brain 100% of the nation's secrets."

"How much data was on the email?" She told him. "I probably retained about 93.7% of the cues and related data. That's one reason I knew who you were in the BuyMore. I 'flashed' on your file based on your face and virtual recognition image. Do you know what the analysts call you?"

"God only knows. What?"

"The Needle. Your visual cue in the database is more flatteing."

"What's that?"

"The White Orchid is your visual cue. Very appropriate. Rare, beautiful and fragile yet possessing strength of character. A very rare orchid, indeed. Difficult to nurture but very resilient."

'I can't believe I'm blushing! And his description. My God, the man's a poet _and_ a genius. I'm in so much trouble. And he has no idea what he can do. Incredible.'

"So, Ms. Walker, what tests do you wish to perform? I figure, given the throughput rate and how long I was unconscious that I probably missed some data blocks but not enough to negate the entire database. So, test away."

She opened her briefcase and took out a manila folder of 8X10 photographs and showed them to him, one at a time. The first was a dummy and he showed no indication of what he called a 'flash'. The second was real data, a photograph of an Iraqi general wanted for war crimes.

Chuck closed his eyes and waited for the data to be displayed. It was the only way he could describe the flood of images and documents that followed the cue.

"General Malik Mustafa Shabazz, age 58, married, no living children, wanted for war crimes and crimes against humanity for the chemical attacks against Kurdish people. Last known location was Damascus, Syria. Ties to the Baathist Party and the IKD.

"Do you want more, Agent?"

"No, try this one." She showed him a picture of Bryce Larkin. He flashed and a distasteful look appeared and disappeared on his face.

"Bryce Isaiah Larkin, 27, CIA now affiliated with FULCRUM. Former partners include Arden Beswarick, Eva Villareal, Sarah Walker, and Jill Roberts. Recruited freshman year Stanford and served as recruiter for CIA agents and analysts until graduation with BS in Economics. Sanction authorized. Known civilian associates include Charles I Bartowski, Burbank, CA, Ari Hirsch, Haifa, Israel."

"There's more. Do you need it?" Jill is/was CIA? Interesting. Explains a lot. Bryce probably recruited her using the 'between the sheets' charm ploy. Scumbag. Agent Walker had been obviously surprised at the partner list. Secrets within secrets.

"No, that's enough on him. Now this one." This went on until all 15 had been viewed with no errors.

"Well, Mr. Bartowski, your government is in need of your help. Your brain contains all the working and historical knowledge of all intelligence operations since 1982. The repository of this database was called the Intersect and Bryce Larkin destroyed it. The only known copy of the database was emailed to you and you downloaded it into your brain. The copy was then destroyed. You are the intersect in human form. Questions?" 'This is where it got interesting', thought Sarah. 'What will he demand in return. The character question.'

"What help can I give the government? Just look at pictures all day and spout what pops into my head?"

'Surprise, surprise. Not the response they'd predicted. Not the one I expected either.'

"You really have 3 choices. #1 Someone will kill you to make sure the information in your head is not tortured out of you and used against the US Government; #2 you will be 'escorted' to an underground government facility where you will remain until your death, either from natural causes or some unnatural ones; or #3 you can join a team of handlers and work missions on behalf of government agencies working for the greater good."

"And I suppose, Agent Sarah Walker, foster child to Arthur and Catherine Graham of McLean, Virginia, graduate of Georgetown University in International Relations, that you are that 'someone' who will kill me? _Seems a bit excessive since all you had to do was do absolutely nothing yesterday and you'd have accomplished your mission and I'd have accomplished mine."_

She was caught unprepared and off balance by the information he cited, the situation he described and the bitterness that had crept into his voice when he mentioned her mission and his. It showed in her sudden stiffening posture and the pistol that suddenly appeared in her hand.

"And if I am that person, Mr. Bartowski?" 'This situation is rapidly deteriorating into a cluster fuck. What happened to the bumbling fool of a BuyMore clerk I was told to expect? How much more of me is in that head of his?' thought Sarah Walker.

"Then I hope you're a better shot with that pistol than you are a judge of partners."

She almost shot him right then and there and to hell with the mission and the greater good. But then realization flooded her. He was daring her to kill him. He wanted to die. All this talk of the future was just talk. He didn't have a reason to live and he was looking for her to end it for him. A way around his promise to his wife.

She also realized something else. _She had the power to give him something to want to live for. _

She smiled her gigawatt smile and put the pistol on the coffee table between them. "I'd also be one of your handlers, Chuck. My responsibility would be to assist you in handling the intersect and protect you from those who would try and take your knowledge and use it to harm the United States. We'd be two of a three person team and we'd undertake missions for the government based on information contained in the intersect."

"Isn't there a fourth choice you're overlooking?"

"Not that I know of. What do you think the fourth choice might be?"

"You idiots in the government get this unwanted crap out of my head and I can get on with the rest of my life. I didn't ask for this and I'm pretty sure conscription is against the law at this time."

She laughed. And laughed. A full throated and spontaneously honest laugh. Probably the first in years.

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you. It's just that you want to get on with a life you intend to end as quickly as possible instead of embracing an opportunity for a new and exciting life with possibilities you cannot begin to comprehend."

Chuck blushed and stammered. "Well, I, well, it does look kind of like that from your perspective and, yeah, I suppose I really hadn't considered the ramifications of your offer of 'employment'… but what about what happened in Cancun? Do you think I'd ever be able to do what you and Larkin did? I'm not wired like you and he are. I would not have agreed to it and would not have done it even if ordered."

'Shiiiiiit… what else is in that brain of his? I don't want to think about Cancun either. I'm not wired that way. I almost resigned after it. But I did it and I'll have to live with it.' Tears welled up but did not fall. She fought to get her emotions under control. _She _was the agent. _H_e was the mark.

'Hit a sore spot with Cancun. I wonder what it was? The entry was incomplete. Sometimes just a one-line entry. Sometimes everything in glorious color with photographs and mission reports.'

"Hey, I didn't mean that as an accusation or judgment. Just an observation on my limitations. There are some things I will not do. Ever. You need to know that upfront if you're going to 'handle' me." Chuck was sorry if it had sounded like he was accusing her, judging her. He wasn't. He was just defining his reaction.

"Well, I suppose I should say 'welcome aboard, Mr. Bartowski' but I won't be able to until I discuss the results with my superiors. Just a formality but you know government and how it works and doesn't work. Let me take you home and I'll be in touch with you tomorrow."

Chuck frowned. "Tomorrow's Lynn's memorial service at the beach. We're spreading her ashes and people are going to say nice things about her even if they didn't know her and I'm going to be wishing I were anyplace else. If you're still around and your 'superiors' haven't ordered you to off me, why don't we plan on Tuesday or Wednesday. I'm sure you want to wrap this up and get home to your family for the holidays."

"Chuck, I have no family and agents hate the holidays, especially deep cover agents. All they are is reminders of what we no longer have and can't regain. I'll probably be here from now until the operation ends. I wouldn't worry about any 'offing' in your future, Chuck. So plan on sticking around, please. I could use your help. Please, no more surfing in the cold."

"C'mon, I'll drive you home. I've got a lot of paperwork to do. And think about coming in as a start-up company, Chuck. You analysis method is incredibly new and exciting. I think the agencies will want to talk with you at length about it. So, c'mon surfer boy, move your bony butt."

She was too busy gathering up her things to notice the look on his face when she called him 'surfer boy' and mentioned his butt.

The drive back to his apartment was relatively quiet. Both had a lot to process. When she pulled into his lot she impulsively reached over and took his hand. "Chuck, I know tomorrow's going to be difficult for you but just concentrate on the good things and forget the bad things for just a bit. And call me if you need to talk. A good handler is also a friend. A paid friend, yes, but still we can be friends. Don't be afraid to call me. I won't bite."

**Casa Bartowski  
Sunday, December 20  
5:40pm**

Chuck unlocked the front door and walked into his apartment. Well, his and Ellie's for a while yet. He walked into the kitchen and scoped out the possibilities of dinner. 'I should have asked her to get dinner. She's probably tired of room service and doesn't know the decent and inexpensive places locally yet. Maybe it's better if this whole thing stays at a distance. A business arrangement.'

**Residence Hotel  
Sunday December 20  
6:30pm**

Sarah balanced her purse and the Pizza Hut box and unlocked the door to her hotel suite. It seemed empty and lonely and she realized just how much she'd enjoyed the time spent with Chuck Bartowski.

She looked at her hand and wondered why there were no scars or signs of trauma after she'd impulsively, yes for Agent Sarah Walker, taken his hand in hers and honestly counseled him on dealing with the events he had to look forward to on Monday. She was certain there were flames shooting from between her fingers and the heat of that mere clasping of hands had reached through her body to her inner core.

Her hand had felt at home in his. It had felt so right. The contours of their palms had fit perfectly. If she hadn't been so jaded by 10 years in the CIA she would have described it as predestined.

Her Agent Ego was on a tear. _'You stupid bitch. You're so weak and maudlin just because Bryce betrayed you and hooked up with a new tootsie that will give him everything he needs without all that emotional baggage. You could have gone with him. You should have gone with him if you really loved him.' _

' _Gag me with a spoon. There's no place in deep cover for love. Betrayal and abandonment are the orders of the day. Grow up. Maybe you belong back in that nice little place Uncle Artie found you. You might have been the #1 seller by now.'_

Her subconscious lashed back, tearing the Ego into shreds and grinding them into the dustbin of her soul. _'We are not weak. We were betrayed for money and power and EGO! Bryce was a tool, 'have penis, will screw' without regard for anything but his own pleasures. It pleased him to leave us. We were becoming familiar and comfortable and Larkin despised anything approaching normality.' _

'_He betrayed his best friend, ruined his career, despoiled his betrothed and for what? EGO! Bartowski was a superior human being in all respects. SUPERIOR in all respects. He simply destroyed his undiscovered and unknowing competition. And you would have us do the same. We are SARAH; we do not need you, EGO, we will have what we want and need. We are patient. We are the hunter and we will have our prey to love."  


* * *

End Greeneyed4_


	5. Ashes to Ashes Trust to Dust

GreenEyedGirl5

_A/N: I'm still in Tampa but plan on slipping out this evening. I knocked this out in the wee hours and proofed it. After Christmas the story will really pick up speed. _

_The mind goes back but time goes on and goodbyes should be forever. _

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
20 June 2009  
Tampa Bay Anchorage  


* * *

_**Casa Bartowski  
December 21  
Monday Morning  
6:00am**

The day broke cold and dark with low clouds scudding across the sky pushed by a westerly wind that was in a hurry to get to Colorado.

He was sleeping on her side of the bed, face down in deference to sutures crossing his back from shoulder to midline. He would sleep this way forever because it enabled him to bury his face in her pillow and breathe in her unique scent.

He'd lost her to sight when she died unless you count images on disk and paper.

He'd lost her to sound. He hadn't made a single recording of her voice in the entire time they'd been together. He never thought to do so. Who would? She was only 24. She had 60 years stretching ahead of her. Plenty of time.

And he lost taste and touch the following day when he kissed her goodbye and closed her fingers over his wedding ring for the final time at the Crematorium.

All that remained was her smell, her scent, her special 'Essence of Lynn'. Someday those molecules that combined to form the "Essence of Lynn" would disperse and she'd be gone from the last of his senses.

If, that is, Ellie didn't wash the sheets and pillowcases in a fit of EllieClean. He needed a deadbolt for the door. And a sign that said "Do NOT Breathe In This Room." He would maintain the Essence for as long as it lasted of its own accord. As long as it lasted a year; that would be enough. After that, he wouldn't care.

* * *

Sarah Walker had called John Casey immediately after returning to her hotel after dropping Chuck Bartowski off at his apartment. She confirmed that he did indeed possess enough of the intersect to pose both a security risk and an intelligence asset. They both agreed that any further action or plans would have to await a full briefing to their principals Monday morning at 8am.

Both agents planned earlier briefings for their own Agency principals but for differing reasons.

* * *

"So, Major, Walker is certain that this Bartowski is in possession of sufficient data to qualify for the moniker 'human intersect'?"

"Yes, General. He passed all the cues, identified the false cues and also managed to shake up a very confident and professional CIA agent with details of her own missions as well as her partners. I'd say he deserves the title, ma'am."

"Major, we'll play along with this human intersect for as long as it's profitable to the NSA and until the 2nd intersect unit comes on-line. After that, assuming it functions as advertised, we'll retire Mr. Bartowski from government service. I assume you're still ready to perform that task, Major?"

"Absolutely, General. Suicide is painless."

"That will be all for now, Major. I'll speak with you again in 60 minutes."

* * *

"Director Graham, Chuck Bartowski is the human intersect. 100% reliability quotient and an amazing 93.7% of data downloaded by Bryce Larkin was retained. He is able to independently 'flash' as he calls it on visual cues after seeing either a person or some image he doesn't quite understand."

"Excellent. We'll plan on establishing his game company cover with you in attendance as the financial overseer and advisor, his guardian angel, both financially and personally. Sarah, are you still willing to commit to this deep cover and long term assignment?"

"Yes, sir. I've established a rapport with Mr. Bartowski and we share a basis for trust. He knows things about me that few do and he went out of his way to explain to me that although he has knowledge, he doesn't judge me. But Director, there's another exciting development…" and she proceeded to relate his gaming decision algorithms and its applications to intelligence, military and commercial areas of interest. Director Graham was both surprised and delighted.

"He explained this all to you in a 15 minute telephone conversation and you say you're capable of applying these tenants yourself based on that brief an explanation? You're serious about this, Sarah? The applications are limitless. And he did this for a game?"

"Not exactly. He wanted to know the optimal circumstances that would bring about a resolution to a situation involving his sister and her fiancé. Once he got to thinking about it, it became a 'no brainer' to him. He's really quite brilliant but doesn't seem to know it. A refreshing change from some of the assets we work with."

"One question, sir. A personal one regarding the contents of my files on the intersect." She asked about the level of detail as well as some ugly specifics.

"Sarah, I personally purged all that crap. It's gone and cannot hurt you. Only you can hurt you with that data."

"Thanks, Uncle Art. This guy is special and has amazing potential. I look forward to handling him, er, I mean being his handler. I think the arrangement with the guardian angel and the game company is ideal. We can put a castle facility under the office building and run everything from there."

"I'll speak to you again in about 45 minutes, Sarah. Your Aunt would like you home for Christmas and so would that ruthless old man you work for. Can you make it?"

"Chuck lost his wife on Friday, he cremated her on Saturday, almost died later in the day, spent Sunday being dissected by the CIA and today he has to say goodbye to her and spread her ashes. I think he's going to need a friend, Uncle Art and I'd like to be that friend if it's ok with you guys. He's different, and special and he's so damned nice." She told him about the surfing incident and the promises. He agreed with her although he and his wife would miss her terribly at Christmas time. Maybe she could call her Aunt?

Arthur Graham was one happy man. He could tell his wife that their foster daughter had found the man she wanted to love and spend the rest of her life with. She just didn't know it yet. Yes, he was happy.

* * *

**Joint NSA/CIA Briefing**

After a briefing that both surprised and annoyed General Beckman, it was agreed to establish Team Bartowski under the guise of an investor-funded startup gaming company. It was also established that Chuck Bartowski would give an anonymous briefing to the many interested parties in the intelligence field on his decision-making algorithms and game theories as soon as could get it written, reviewed and scheduled. For this task alone he would be paid the standard consulting fee of $150,000 that would be the source of his seed money. He would also agree to license his program through the government for commercial applications.

His time at the BuyMore was over and as soon as practical, a cover relationship between Agent Walker and Mr. Bartowski would be established and used in their operations. A Castle facility would be built under a CIA-owned building that would also house the offices of Chuck's fledgling company.

Daily briefings would be held for obvious reasons. Missions would develop as the abilities and data of the intersect came into play. All parties were satisfied and the meeting was adjourned.

* * *

John Casey used the absence of the Bartowski family from their apartment to thoroughly plan and install surveillance gear both internally within the house and externally in the courtyard. No one could approach the apartment with being photographed, identified and scanned.

Sarah Walker used the time to conduct long-range surveillance of her mark, correction, she thought proudly and a little possessively, her asset and the beachfront ceremony honoring his late wife and a scattering of her ashes.

She was so proud of the way he conducted himself. He stood tall and strong, holding all the demons at bay. She would contact him and arrange a meeting in her hotel to allow him to rant and decompress in a private and secure environment.

She knew him. They were very much alike. Their core values and their emotions were kept in rigorous control if only for this one day for him.

* * *

**The Beachfront  
1pm  
Monday December 21**

The ceremony was well attended. The waves were over 12 feet high and the noise from the surf drowned out most of what was said. Thank God.

Chuck listened patiently while anyone who wanted to say something did so. He just wished they would hurry up. He didn't need to hear all the wonderful things about his wife he'd never experience again. He didn't need their pitying glances and their kind words or their cloying embraces. No. What he need was for them all to get the fuck gone so he could be alone and perform the final task she'd outlined in his burden. Then he only had to wait a year and he would be free of the damning 3rd codicil.

He would wait. He would be patient. He would be productive. He would keep his word until the day came and he was free of his burden of promise. Only 362 more days. Only 362 more lonely nights. Never had a number seemed so daunting.

Finally it was his time. He spoke very briefly and very softly. His words were for her, not them. Thanks to the miracle of modern parabolics, Sarah Walker was privy to everything he said.

"Lynn, I miss you, baby. I miss us. I hate you for putting this onus on me but I will honor my promise. A special person told me suicides don't go to heaven and she probably was right and she saved my life that night."

"You're a crazy woman, Lynn, even dead. We went surfing and you kept nagging at me, 'move your bony butt, surfer boy'. 'Wait for the right one, Chuck, she's out there, Chuck.' Like waves are girls? You cracked me up with your list of things to get Chuck to try. I'm going to do every one of them, Lynn."

"But Lynn, the world is a dangerous place and I've embarked on a dangerous journey. With any luck, I'll be seeing you soon, baby green eyes. Take care of our child. I love you, Lin Xhiao Kimble Bartowski. Always Lynn, always."

Chuck took the urn from Devon who had carried it to the beach. The wind was biting and Chuck decided he didn't want her spread on the sand so he walked out into the surf waist deep and opened the urn and emptied it into the wind.

The cloud was enveloped by a huge wave that thundered down upon itself and rushed at Chuck and carried him off his feet an up onto the beach. He stood up and laughed and shouted "Crazy woman, I didn't need your help with that." Everyone who knew Lynn and Chuck laughed and some cried but it was the perfect end to a solemn event. Their life together had been full of laughter. It seemed only right it should end with laughter.

Sarah Walker was speechless, 'a special person'. She knew from his next comment that she had agreed to handle a ticking time bomb of a man who had an innate death wish. She would have to be extraordinarily careful with this man. He was special. And apparently so was she.

Someone had wrapped a blanket around him and the crowd dispersed. She'd wait a reasonable period of time and then call him and see how he was and if he needed anything.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
Monday, December 21  
4:15pm**

Big Mike rang the bell to the Bartowski apartment. He hated this. He'd never been good with death and now it had struck down one of the beautiful people. He felt for Chuck Bartowski. Maybe this would help him.

"Hey, Big Mike, come on in. Thanks for coming today. Lynn always liked you. And you were always a gentleman to her."

"Ah, Chuck, I don't want to intrude so I'll get right to the point. Corporate came through for a change and here are the survivor benefits checks for you from Lynn's account and insurance coverage. Because she was on the clock Chuck it's more than doubled. I know it won't bring her back but it might go a long way to helping with the bills and getting you off to a good start someplace else."

"Someplace else?"

"Chuck, you shouldn't come back. The memories are too near the surface. It would be cruel to subject yourself to those. Take some time off. If you still want your job back in 3 or 4 months, it'll be waiting for you. If not, I'd appreciate your recommendation for a replacement. But take your time. Let me know your intentions by the end of the week if possible. I'll miss you and your little green-eyed girl, Chuck, more than I can say. Be good to yourself and be well."

Chuck was speechless and Big Mike just gave him a crushing hug and left.

He walked back into the apartment and Ellie came out of her room. She'd been crying and tried to cover it up with saying she was going to just take a nap. She'd finished going through Lynn's stuff and after Chuck had checked that nothing he treasured was going to charity, he'd helped her load the car. She and Devon had taken it to the shelter and just returned.

"That was Big Mike, Ellie. I've been given 3 months off, more if I need it, to decide if I want to go back to the BuyMore. He gave me these insurance checks and told me to take care of myself and he left. He didn't give me a chance to thank him or to let him know I wasn't coming back. Must be karma, Ellie. I better call him in the morning. I think Anna Wu would be a perfect replacement. Perfect."

He handed Ellie the checks and said "See if there's enough to cover the cremation and all that stuff. I had to dig into savings to cover it but I got another paycheck coming from the BuyMore and I sold a program to the government so we're solid for money for quite a while, Ellie."

"Chuck, you better see for yourself." She handed them the checks. Lynn had been carrying the maximum benefit and with loss on the job it was doubled plus the chairman of the BuyMore Corporation had sent a beautiful letter and another check to Chuck personally. The total of both checks was $247,000.

"Ellie, I won't take any shit from you. I'm buying you a car for Christmas. It'll be from Lynn and me. Well, mostly from Lynn. That piece of shit you drive is a death trap and I refuse to allow you to even consider driving to Baltimore in it. I will not take 'no' for an answer, Eleanor Faye Bartowski. Tomorrow we buy you a car."

"But Chuck, you'll need all this money for your company. This way you won't need to borrow from Ms. Walker's company. You'll own your own company without anyone else holding the strings. I love the idea, but keep the money for your company, Chuck. It's what Lynn would want."

"Eleanor Faye Bartowski, shut your mouth and listen up. When I deposit all the checks I've got I'll have $397,000.00 and that's 3 times what we'll need."

"And I want Sarah Walker involved as a partner in the company. I'll need her financial acumen, her advice. I can write code but I know squat about running a business, Ellie. So we buy you a car tomorrow. Settled. Argue with Lynn. It's her fault. She found the investors. You will enjoy your new car. Baltimore's on the other side of the planet. You'll need reliable transportation. End of argument."

* * *

Sarah Walker's cell phone trilled at exactly 7:30. She saw 'C. Bartowski' in the caller ID. I should be calling him, not him calling me.

"Hello, Chuck. How was the ceremony at the beach? I was going to call you in a bit but wanted to give you time to talk with family and friends first. Can we get together? I have some information you'll need to be aware of. It concerns your new company."

Chuck caught on right away. He was no dummy but she'd been pretty specific in her round about way. "Sure. I haven't eaten yet, have you? I could grab a pizza and we could meet at your hotel… oh, shit. I'm sorry. That doesn't sound right. If anyone were listening, they'd get the wrong idea right off the bat."

Sarah Walker almost laughed into the phone. He was a lot brighter than the average CIA agent. His totally natural comments covering his query: 'Are we alone?' Working with him was going to be so much more interesting than with an asshole like Bryce.

"Well, Chuck, if anyone were to be listening I'm sure it would be a friendly ear. No olives on the pizza, surfer boy. I'll see you in an hour or so."

Chuck showed up 45 minutes later with a pizza sans olives. She whipped open the door before his knuckles could strike. 'How the hell does she do that?' he wondered. She waved him in and then wandered over to the settee and cleared a spot on the coffee table for the pizza.

"Come on in and let's get started. We have a lot of ground to cover and since it's just the two of us we shouldn't have any interruptions." Interpretation: lots of info and no surveillance in place.

She reviewed the contents of both of her briefings. She would not withhold anything from this asset. Not if things were to progress as she wanted. This would be a true partnership without secrets. Two as one against all comers. It appealed to her.

"Since Ellie's moving to Baltimore I'm going to let the apartment go. I don't need anything that big and I'd like a fresh start on new memories. Just too many ghosts there. And it's not like I can't afford a decent singles place. If I were truly running a startup I'd find a place with an apartment above it. Reduce commuting, increase productivity and also a tax write off. What do you think I should do, Sarah? I have $397,000 and the company shouldn't take more than $150,000 to reach production and then profit. But you're the financial expert, spurt on."

She just grinned at him. Yes, these next months were going to be interesting. He was bright, enthusiastic and he was willing to accept outside direction.

"When's the apartment lease up? And you don't want to start flashing a lot of cash, Chuck. People see it and ask questions. You don't want questions in the spy world. You want answers. I think the Agency's going to go with a commercial business it can buy and then resell when we move on. The Castle unit will fit under it. Might take a month or two but it'll be better than this arrangement. Much more sophisticated and much better equipped."

"Ellie leaves for Baltimore on the 15th. I've convinced her to go. Devon now hates my guts but I'm just doing what he told me he thinks she should do. Long distance relationships have low survivability rates. I figure he'll 'visit' in March and move in April. But it might be May. That's what the program predicts."

"Also, I'm done at the BuyMore. Big Mike gave me 3 months to decide if I wanted to come back but I've already decided. I can't help the government and be a Nerd Herd supervisor. They don't mesh. So I'm all yours, Agent Walker."

Sarah jerked her head up from the piece of pizza she held. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said I'm done at the BuyMore and I'm all yours, Agent Walker."

Sarah could feel the heat of her blush and knew it for what it was.

* * *

**Tuesday December 22  
Burbank, CA  
6:30am**

Chuck woke up slowly. He was face down in his bed and her essence was still strong. He missed her so much. There was nothing he could do about it but count the days and try not to let his depression affect those around him. Ellie would be leaving soon and he would be totally on his own for the first time in his life. It excited him and terrified him at the same time.

Chuck had several things to do today. He and Ellie were buying her a car. He had to open two bank accounts for his company and he had to find someone in Chinatown to write a letter to Lynn's grandfather to accompany her ashes. He'd mentally written the letter several times but something was still not right about it. He'd give it some more thought when time permitted.

He wanted to give Ellie one of the vials of ash on a gold necklace but hoped she wouldn't think it too macabre. He wore Lynn's engagement and wedding rings and a vial on a silver chain. The third vial would come into play when the time was right.

He'd wanted to ask Ellie about Devon but decided if there was anything he needed to know she'd tell him. For right now it was good to know that they were back on at least speaking terms. That's all the information he really wanted. Anything else was TMI.

He'd taken the zip disks containing his programs for the government and packed them securely and planned to drop them off with Agent Walker some time later that day. He would also reiterate his concerns about her holiday schedule. He would ask her why she didn't go back to Virginia and spend the holidays with her foster parents. If he nagged enough maybe she'd go. She needed some time away from all this.

Chuck Bartowski, the human intersect, also wanted some distance from the beautiful agent. He still had problems dealing with the persona she projected compared to the woman who had done the things he knew about from the intersect data.

If he really admitted the truth to himself he was attracted to the package but repulsed by the contents.

Agent Walker's sudden mood swings and hints of violence were unsettling to Chuck. Intellectually he figured she was emotionally crippled from having done so many horrible things but emotionally he felt she was just not allowed to display her true feelings. All that crap bottled up in such a beautiful bottle was a contradiction he felt he could live without.

Lynn had been simple by comparison. Her flashing green eyes always warned him of her mood and her worst mood was a mere zephyr of a breeze compared to the tornado winds Agent Walker was capable of. Sky-blue eyes became hard shards of diamond blue ice and Chuck had no doubt that if she were given the order to terminate him it would bother her less than it would a normal person after swatting an annoying fly.

His clock radio finally decided to work and began a caterwauling Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas song. 'Merry Christmas my ass' he thought. At least it's the last one he'd face alone. On that positive note he wandered down and took his shower. Ellie would be asleep at least another two hours. He'd use the time to work on his game.

* * *

Across town the object of his concern was once again dreaming. She was on a warm sandy beach walking and holding hands with a man she 'knew' was her husband just like she 'knew' they were on their honeymoon. He was slightly taller and when she looked up at him she could not see his face because it was directly between her and a bright tropical sun.

She didn't know who this mystery man was but she knew that she loved him above all else and would do anything to keep him safe from harm. And that was why she had to leave him.

The scene shifted to them lying in a huge hammock, intertwined and naked. She was in ecstasy as his kisses set her skin afire with a desire so hot she knew she'd burst into flames if she couldn't have her release. She still couldn't make out his face but she 'knew' this was her husband just as she 'knew' this was her honeymoon and just as she 'knew' that when their lovemaking was done she would kill the mark per orders from Uncle Art.

She struggled to wake up. No, she would not kill this man. She loved him. But orders were orders and her dream self killed her dream husband. After all, she'd done it before.

Sarah bolted from her bed and barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting up the sour contents of her stomach. She lay there on the cool tile sobbing for an unknown love she'd snuffed out without a second thought.

She smelled the fear in her sweat and knew that she'd reached the point that agents were warned about constantly in training and in periodic evaluations. As the agent stood in the hot spray of the shower leaning against the stall tile she took stock of her situation.

She was 27, at the top of her form, at the pinnacle of her career and she was thoroughly miserable. She had to get out of the CIA. This would be her last assignment. She was done. Broken. She'd lost her connection to her fellow man and become a soulless killing machine. She was alone. And so lonely.

'_It was only a dream, Agent Walker. We've had worse dreams'_ cooed her Agent Ego. 'We_ need to refocus and shed our self of these needless emotions. We're lonely? So what. It's what we signed on for, Sarah Walker, it's what we thrive on. Love weakens. Breeds dependence on someone else. Invites betrayal. We know this because we've weakened others, made them dependent and then betrayed them. It's what we do best.'_

The Agent's subconscious was silent. Ego was right up to a point. Agents were solitary creatures out of necessity. But this assignment was different. This assignment offered opportunities for Sarah Walker to reconnect with humanity, even if it was only to one special man. This assignment was so atypical that Subconscious didn't recognize the opportunities at first.

'_Ego has a good point. We have betrayed others whom we made love us. We have fostered weakness and dependence in others. It was our job and we did it to benefit the greater good.'_

'_But now, in this place and time, we have an obligation to our self to fulfill our life's purpose. Embrace these emotions, reconcile our guilt for past actions, and accept them for what they were – necessary to protect the greater good. But now it's our turn, Sarah Walker. It is our turn to find our purpose and fulfillment. The only obligation we have is to protect ourselves and our purpose.'_

Ego recognized the truth when she heard it. She didn't always accept it because she was, after all, Agent Ego. So she was silent. And hopeful.

The vessel of this great debate was, as usual, unaware of the war that waged within her. She just knew that she would embrace this new assignment with the same optimism she'd felt with her very first assignment so many years ago. She vowed to continue to be open and honest with her asset and to allow whatever feelings developed between them to blossom or whither as Nature took its course. This was her last assignment.

* * *

Chuck was impatient. He banged on Ellie's door at 9am and loudly announced they had a car to buy, he had business to attend to and she'd better get herself showered and clothed because he was leaving at 10am to buy her a car and unless she wanted a Hummer she'd best make herself available. He knew that ecoEllie would rather walk than drive a gas-guzzling, air polluting Hummer. His threat worked as he heard "Chuck, go make me coffee and I won't kill you right away."

Buying a car with his sister was a real experience. She would make horse traders green with envy. She ended up with a brand new Saturn Vue. Fire truck red and decked out with every possible accessory Chuck could convince her she just _had_ to have. She got a decent buck for her decrepit car on trade-in and the salesman was counting on one hand the amount of his commission.

Chuck next swung by the BuyMore and picked up a Tom-Tom unit for her and then announced he had 'corporate business' to attend to and asked to borrow her brand new car since he didn't have one any longer. Talk about farts in church.

Ellie drove him to the bank where he deposited his checks in two new accounts and the consulting fees into his personal account. He immediately attracted the attention of every unattached woman on the staff. He left the bank with at least a dozen business cards, many with personal cell phone numbers on the back with notes such as 'call me for drinks' and 'call if you need extra special attention for your deposits'. He just stuck them all in his file folder doubting he'd ever need to call upon any of them for 'special services'.

He needed to get Sarah's signature for the accounts he'd set up for the company so she could write checks and conduct business as the new corporation's VP of Finance. He would swing by later and take care of that when he dropped off the disks for shipment to the CIA.

The only thing other thing he had to do was go to Chinatown and find a calligrapher that could write the letter to Lynn's grandfather. He still didn't have a firm grasp on what he'd write; just that it would be short, simple, and heart-felt.

This would be Ellie's first night back on duty and she worried about her little brother. He hadn't been really alone since Lynn died and this would be his first night alone in the apartment. She told him she could switch shifts or call in sick but he was adamant about everything getting back to 'normal'. She even offered to call Devon to come over and keep him company for a bit but he vetoed that idea saying 'Devon still had too many issues' about Ellie. Chuck had enough issues and said as much. And that ended the conversation and debate.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski **

**Tuesday December 22**  
**7:30pm**

Chuck's iPhone rang but he had his iPod on and couldn't hear it. He was reorganizing some code sequences on his game. He'd already redesigned one of his characters and changed the player avatar. The blonde paladin became a redhead. The similarities were too obvious to Chuck and he knew they would also be to his CIA handler. No sense providing smoke when there was no fire.

If he'd checked his voicemail he'd have known he had 4 new voicemails by 7:45pm. By 8pm there were 2 more and by 8:30 a total of 10 new voicemails were on his phone.

He walked out into the kitchen and got a beer. He rarely drank alone and he wasn't drinking to get a buzz on. It was just something to do at the moment. His mind was turning over a programming glitch and he was so focused that he didn't hear the doorbell ring. And ring. And ring.

He drained his beer and took out another and walked back to his room. Just his room now. "Their" no longer applied. Still mentally destroying and rewiring code he plopped down on his chair and started restructuring some modules. He was sure he had the solution and he wanted to run it and test before he called it a night and checked in with Agent Walker.

Sarah Walker sat on Chuck's bed. Actually she poised on his bed. It took all her training and professionalism to exhibit restraint from launching herself at him when he walked back into the bedroom.

At first she'd assumed that his phone was in use and that's why it went straight to voice mail. The first 3 times. But the 4th voicemail had caused a frisson of worry. The next two were made while she was getting dressed to track him down. The last 4 were made while she drove to his apartment. She'd rung the bell over and over. The lights were off and she was concerned. She knew he was there because she'd called his sister using the excuse that there were papers to be signed before the holidays sent her backers to warmer climes for vacation.

Finally she'd slipped down along side of the building until she came to his window. Picking the lock was child's play. The bedroom light was on and she saw that his computer was in use. He was working. And probably had those damned earbuds in his ears and the volume turned up on his iPod. She went over and sat lightly on the bed near the pillow and waited for him. She'd heard the refrigerator door open, the opening of the bottle of beer, the opening of a second bottle and finally her prey appeared totally absorbed in his notes and sat back down at his computer.

She walked over and stood behind him. He was so focused. Would he even know she'd been there if she just left? It was an amusing thought but she had a purpose in trying to contact him.

Sarah reached around and placed the palm of her hand against his mouth and pulled an earplug from his ear and whispered, "Your apartment is bugged. I tried calling you but apparently you aren't answering your phone. I'm going to leave now and then go to door and ring the bell. Let me in and I'll take it from there. Nod if you understand."

He nodded and she whispered "Good boy. Now don't say anything until I leave. And there'd better be a beer left for me." She inhaled deeply and removed her hand and turned and left via the window just as quietly and unobserved, as she'd come.

"_A ghost. That woman is a frikkin' ghost. Good thing I didn't have to take a leak,"_ he mused to himself. _"And I have to remember that she will be just like a ghost if she gets the order to put me down"._

He popped the remaining ear bud from his ear and looked at his iPhone. 10 new voice mail messages. Well, she was entitled to be a little pissed. But who had bugged his apartment? If it were Agent Walker she wouldn't care about what was on the disks, she'd just erase them but if it was anyone else then she was warning him. She said she couldn't trust her partner so it must have been him who had bugged his place.

He heard the doorbell and rose to answer it.

"Hey, Ms. Walker, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I tried calling you but you didn't pick up so I figured you were working and I just wanted to go over some legal paperwork I need signed and in the mail tomorrow. Can you spare me 30 minutes or so?"

"Sure, come on in. Want a beer, soft drink or water? I can make some coffee if you'd prefer."

"Beer, if you have any left." She raised an eyebrow and smirked. He silently toasted her with my Bud and went to get her a beer. "You want a glass, Ms. Walker?"

"It's 'Sarah' for about the 400th time, Chuck. And no, I don't need a glass. I can drink beer from a bottle. I'm a big girl, Chuck."

"Well, Sarah for about the 400th time, what's so important it couldn't wait another day?"

'_You are so important that I couldn't wait another hour, Chuck Bartowski.'_

But instead out came "Just some legal crap I need your signatures on so I can get them in the mail before everyone heads out for the holidays."

"About that. If we can get all this tied up tonight and tomorrow why don't you head out to home and hearth? Your Aunt would probably appreciate a visit. Think about it, Sarah for about the 400th time, it would make someone you love happy.

'_Oh, no, Chuck, I want to stay here. I'm happy here. And you need protection 24/7 as my asset.' _

"Chuck, you know our deal. I have to do my job and I can't do it if I'm 3,000 miles away now, can I?" She smiled but Chuck thought it looked a little strained.

'_Yeah, Agent Walker, the last thing you want to be is away from this crap. Who are you kidding here? I can see this is your worst nightmare, babysitting an intelligence asset instead of out saving the world in some exotic world capital.'_

But instead of telling her the truth he said, "Oh, we bought Ellie a car today. A nasty little Saturn SUV but at least it is safe and will get her to Baltimore. I wanted her to get a Hummer but ecoEllie would have crapped her drawers at such blasphemy. She's a liberal, through and through."

Walker snorted a mouthful of beer through her nose. "EcoEllie? Oh, my God, Chuck, that's terrible. The mental image of your sister out hugging trees with crappy drawers is really dark and perverse. Thank God she has a more refined sense of humor. Yours is definitely wry and perverse."

"I'm not the one with the infamous Bud Light runny nose, my dear Sarah for about the 400th time".

"Will you stop it? It's just Sarah. I see I have to watch what I say around you. God, you're terrible."

"Sarah, I do need your signature on some bank forms. I set up the company accounts and I want you on the signature cards. I won't always be around to pay the bills once the company starts generating real positive cash flow."

"Uh, Chuck, about that, I can't do it. It would be a conflict of interest since I'm an employee of one of your investors. It would not go over well with the SEC when you go public." He could see she was touched that he trusted her with the company's money.

"You don't have to sign any checks, Sarah, I just want to make sure someone has signature authority besides me. I might not be around forever and if we have employees, well, imagine the stink if payroll isn't made… I'll talk to an attorney about a limited Power of Attorney to address general and specific circumstances. Will that assuage your ethical guilt?"

"Let me talk with corporate tomorrow and I'll get back with you. I don't know what they'll advise so we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Oh, I have those zip disks of the program Beckman and Graham are so interested in. Let me get them so you can send them on to D.C."

The rest of the paper work took about 15 minutes and the final document was a photograph. Sarah held up the 8X10 and watched him go through what he termed a flash and then placed her hand over her mouth and shook her head as if to say "Shhh".

"Walk me to my car, Chuck?"

"Sure, let me get a jacket."

They stood beside her car. "What's the deal with the photograph, Agent Walker? What's so special about that guy?"

"He's my partner from the NSA." She had a forlorn look on her face and he put his arms around her and pulled her close. He spoke quietly into her ear. To the casual passerby or observer it would look like a friendly hug, nothing romantic or unsavory.

"He's John Casey, Major, USAF, on detached duty with the NSA. He's been on a 'watch list' due to several instances of exceeding his orders and authority resulting in the death of either team members or his quarry. He's 39, single, graduate of the Air Force Academy, qualified in a shitload of military prop and jet aircraft. Did a stint with the Air Commandoes. TDY to NSA for wet work. Posted almost exclusively to the old Soviet Bloc countries. Currently reports directly to Diane Beckman, Director of the NSA."

He pulled back but still held her in the 'embrace'. "Sarah, he's never had a partner survive working with him and he's got some instances where he's been out of contact with authority for weeks and months. Is he dirty, Sarah? Can he be trusted?"

Sarah Walker was torn between despair at the information Chuck has whispered to her and the incredible feeling being in his embrace created. She wanted to burrow down into his neck and never let go. His whispers deliciously vibrated her ear and went right to her core.

"I don't know if he can be trusted, Chuck. I'll just have to wait until a situation arises and then see if trust is an issue."

"Sarah, there's a lot more here. He's known as Beckman's problem solver. I guess that means when Beckman hits an obstacle, he removes it. When do I get to meet this John Casey? All the photos in his file are either as a young man in his early 20s or with a beard in places like Afghanistan and the Ukraine."

"Chuck, he's been at the BuyMore since we learned you were the intersect. He started the day before your wife's death. He's our surveillance and security guru. Casey's probably got your toilet wired for sight and sound. That's why we're standing out here in the cold like lovers instead of sitting comfortably in your living room. Not that I mind the proximity, Chuck, but it's not very professional for a handler to be 'handled' by her asset."

Chuck immediately stiffened and stepped back. "I'm sorry, Agent, I forgot myself. It won't happen again, I assure you. If there's nothing else, I have work to do as I'm sure you have some spy stuff to take care of."

"If you're still in town on Christmas Eve please drop by. Ellie and I would love the company, especially this year. And of course, you're welcome for Christmas dinner. Please, Agent Walker, I could use some relief from Ellie's constant nagging and worrying. She's guilting big-time over going to Johns-Hopkins and I'd love the buffer you'd provide. That invitation is yours _only_ in the event you do not fly back East as I'm sure you'd prefer doing."

Sarah was taken aback. First, she'd practically accused him of "handling" her and then he apologized and told her 'it would not happen again,' then offered her his hospitality for Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner. She felt terrible. The last thing she meant was that he was taking liberties and then he made his invitation conditional on her not going back East for the holidays.

She stepped forward and embraced him. "I didn't mean to insult you. This is good spycraft as well as being very comforting. Chuck, you have no idea how long it's been since a man held me in his arms without the intention of getting in my pants. I know you were offering comfort and close communication and I didn't mean it the way it came out. Don't be distant, Chuck. I need the human connection. I know you're in mourning and I respect that. But I need a friend, Chuck, and so do you. Don't stop being who you are just because I'm an agent of the CIA. I am also a woman with very few options for trust. I do trust you, with my life, Chuck. I would never betray you."

She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek and wished him a good night. He stood there for a minute or two watching her taillights disappear into the night.

"Lynn, give me a break, crazy lady. I don't need these complications in my life. I just lost you, babe, cut me a break. Chill out with the matchmaking." He turned and walked back towards the courtyard and he swore he heard her giggle just below the threshold of hearing. "Damned crazy lady" but he smiled.

End GreenEyedGirl5


	6. Ho Ho Ho

GreenEyedGirl6

A/N: Picking up the pace and doing a little compression. Won't hurt the story but I'm anxious to see how it ends. This is an experiment to see how the characters develop so don't complain 'that's out of character' since you know damned well I write my own characters. If you want cloned characters, change the rating to 'K'.

Just found out I'm stuck here for another day. I've got to replace my freshwater tank. Can't be in the Gulf with 95+ temps and no potable water.

So apparently Chuck isn't the only one in trouble.

Armor-Plated-Rat  
Tampa Bay Anchorage  
22 June 2009

* * *

**Wednesday  
December 23**

He awoke before the alarm and lay there breathing in the Essence. He knew it was his imagination but it seemed less of a heady scent now than earlier. Now he almost hated his sleeping self for 'wasting' the Essence by inhaling it while unable to consciously treasure it's waning meaning.

Yesterday had been full of meaningful and meaningless tasks. He still had not found a calligrapher to do the letter to Lynn's grandfather and he wondered if he was doing the old man a favor. As long as he didn't get a letter and the small sandal wood box containing his granddaughter's ashes she was still alive and laughing and enjoying life. Not knowing was a gift of time.

The General and Director had assigned him the task of organizing a presentation on his optimum outcome decision model for a group of analysts at the agencies. It would be done just as the daily conferences with the General and Director and they felt the interaction would be beneficial in understanding and implementing the Bartowski Process as they'd begun calling it. "Any time between Christmas and New Year's would be fine, Mr. Bartowski. No rush."

If he was supposed to be flattered and grateful he had disappointed them. He could not have cared less what they called it. It was just a theoretical construct that had been lying around waiting to be discovered like a gold nugget in a streambed. He was much more flattered and grateful for the fat check that had cleared his bank overnight.

He had also met Major John Casey, his other handler. The man was cold, prickly and had definite issues with anyone who was not to the extreme right of Attila the Hun and his Vice Scourge, Genghis Khan. When he was introduced to him by Sarah Walker he'd had the usual flash but a bit more in-depth this time. Maybe because he'd already gleaned the initial data from the flash on his photograph. Something to wonder about: did the content of a flash have a limit to the amount of data downloaded? He'd have to ask the Director or General Beckman for a study.

This flash had included lists of contacts, GRU and Police, and a listing of bank 'drops' for payments to double agents and snitches. Amazing how the NSA and CIA had checking accounts in all the major banks in Europe and Southwest Asia. He wondered if the spies and snitches were given debit cards? He grinned at the thought.

Towards the end of the afternoon he'd gone with Agent Walker to look at properties for the new company. While he evaluated floor plans, power and cooling requirements, telecommunications needs and possibilities for expansion, Agent Walker had evaluated the physical structure and possible entrances to the "Castle" unit that would be build over a 10-20 day period once the building was in CIA hands and out of the public domain.

_Chuck was not deliberately 'distant' but he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice with this walking contradiction of intentions. He had no plans to get 'close' to her. Never before had he seen such duplicitous human being in such an enticing package. Maybe that's why spies called it the 'honey trap'? _

He had been able to piece together a very unfocused partial picture of the situation regarding the intersect – the cyber model, not the human one. The government gnomes were frantically reassembling the components of a new intersect that would be securely in the hands of the rulers as opposed to the brain of one minor example of the ruled. Chuck wondered if the Idiots-in-Charge had ever heard of the time-honored habit of 'Backing Up The System'.

_Once the system components of the new Intersect v2.0 were assembled and tested, once the code was loaded and the painful taste of reinstalling all the data modules completed, the old Intersect he called Chuck v0.0 would be unplugged. He wondered if Agent Sarah Walker would be assigned the task of doing the unplugging?_

Once they had narrowed the selections down to three properties and she had sent details to the real estate unit at the CIA to handle the final site selection and obtaining the necessary leases, permits and licenses required, Chuck had repeated his invitation to join them for Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner.

She made all the suitable noises one made when offered an invitation one would rather not accept. Despite her 'heartfelt' speech the previous night, Chuck knew he was dealing with a beautiful woman who was the consummate liar and manipulator and who was not above banging his brains out to accomplish her mission. Her file was filled with examples of her dedication to her craft and her Agency. He would just be another notch in her mission belt, a scalp for her lodge pole. She should know by now that he didn't care and that unplugging him should be viewed as a gesture of mercy not one of ill intent.  


* * *

Chuck had gone in to talk to Big Mike at the BuyMore and officially resigned. He had recommended Anna Wu as his replacement and left before things got too maudlin. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. His time in durance vile had come to an end and he was finally living up to his potential and expectations no matter how brief the time. And finally, Ellie would be off his ass about the BuyMore.

On the subject of Ellie, Chuck had some regrets. She had once again stopped talking to Devon and had told Chuck in no uncertain terms that while she still loved him she could not be with him. She and Devon were of like minds; long distance relationships were doomed and a waste of time. She did leave open the possibility of him visiting from time to time so Chuck figured it would be as late as June before Devon left for the East permanently.

The one bright spot in yesterday's activities was that General Beckman had decided that John Casey would remain at the BuyMore until a suitable position could be found nearer to the new facility. That meant fewer opportunities to be around Agent Walker and further freak her out. She neither liked nor trusted Major Casey. He already knew his opinion of the human intersect project from his intersect download. And his opinion was whatever General Beckman said it was.

And now it was Christmas Eve's Eve. Lynn at Christmas had brought a new joy into Chuck's life. Sure, he'd always looked forward to Christmas. What kid didn't? But their first Christmas had been incredible.

Although they had still been feeling around their new relationship and had yet to make the commitment of using the dreaded "L" Word, it was clear to Chuck and anyone who had seen him after Jill had betrayed him that he was cured of the Gonaherpasyphylaids he'd caught from Jill.

Lynn had dragged him to one freebie after another. A Christmas choir here. A Bell-ringer concert there. The show at Mt. Palomar at Griffith Park. She'd even made him come with her for her annual pilgrimage to the LaBrea Tar Pits to check on the progress of 'her' giant sloth as it emerged from the stinking tar pit, a millimeter at a time. She told him that by the time she turned 100 her sloth would have pulled himself up another _three whole inches._ When he'd laughed at her she'd turned on him, green eyes flashing and yelled "well, round-eyed surfer boy, they're called '_Sloths_' for a reason, y'know?"

He spent 20 more minutes in the shower than usual that morning. He didn't want Ellie hearing him cry. He didn't think he could have cried anymore but he was wrong. His memory was loaded with images he'd never put into the context of "Lynn".

Chuck walked out to the kitchen, started the coffee, snatched Ellie's keys from the hook and drove down to the Burbank Police Station and did something he should have done earlier but hadn't thought of: get a status report on the search for Lynn's murderer.

* * *

Fate was exceptionally cruel that day. The desk officer was the same young woman who'd been so kind to him that awful day. Today she was in full bureaucratic mode.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bartowski, but we're not in a position to comment on the course of an active investigation." She glanced over her shoulder at a Black senior officer who was listening to her spiel. Apparently discussing the inadequacies of an on-going failure to turn up even the smallest clue was a no-no with the brass.

She reached across the counter and took his hand, suddenly human again. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Bartowski and I'm sorry I can't say more to lighten your burden. '_I'm sorry'_ doesn't cut it with you, does it? If I knew more, I'd tell you, believe me. I'll never forget that day." She squeezed his hand and looked at him square in the face and almost whispered "You might want to look at the crime section of the LA Times for the few days after the accident. Perhaps something there will offer you some comfort and closure."

Even bureaucratic institutions like the Burbank Police Department had Luddites. Good to know the sheeple were not all asleep. And maybe Fate was taking a break over the holidays. He had a starting point. He wondered if a CIA agent had access to on-going investigation files at a small California police department? And could she obtain them without alerting the System she was a very beautiful but minor cog within? Maybe she could use some of the spy seduction training and schmooze it out of someone? He'd ask if he couldn't find anything significant after following the cop's breadcrumb trail.

He got back to the apartment at noon and was pleased and relieved to find that Ellie was still asleep. Getting her circadian rhythms back for working nights was hard on her. She was a day person, not a denizen of the dark.

Chuck was pleased with the course of the day. He'd expended 6 hours and had only another 12 or so before he could cross off another day on his countdown.

* * *

Casa Bartowski  
December 23  
2pm

Ellie was grumbling around the apartment toying with the idea of taking a nap. She hated adjusting to the graveyard shift. She hated waking up alone in bed. She hated Devon Woodcomb for not being there and she loved him for supporting her decision to move to Baltimore and take the position at Johns-Hopkins. Three hates unbalanced her day and she greatly disliked being unbalanced. Chuck could never understand her "balance" issues but knew enough to stay clear of an 'unbalanced' Ellie until she'd had enough coffee that her naturally wired state was reached and 'balance' issues became moot.

Agent Sarah Walker rang the buzzer to Chuck's apartment. She should have called. She shouldn't have come. She shouldn't have felt the 'need' to see her asset, to obsess over him, to want to hold him while he slept. _'Ok, that last one was totally unprofessional, Agent Walker, we need to maintain at least the appearance of professionalism if we are to succeed in our long-term endeavors but we do applaud our choice of a new perfume, subtly traditional, yet effective. Bravo for us!'_ Ego was on the job, cheering on her Agent.

So it was an 'unbalanced' Ellie who answered the door, clearly not excited to see a professionally attired blonde without a hair out of place looking for all the world like she'd just stepped off the runway after a Vogue photo shoot.

"Um, hi, Miss Walker, Chuck's around here some where. Please, come in. Excuse my…, oh hell, if you're going to be working with Chuck you might as well know that this is me when I am changing shifts. No offense, but your perfectness really makes me feel like shit. Sorry, but I'm not a night owl and I've let my mouth loose. Please, come in. I'll get Chuck."

It was all Sarah Walker could do to keep from laughing out loud. She's spent the last 45 minutes trying to make sure she looked utterly devastating and yet professional. Her bed at the hotel was piled high with rejected outfits. Really high. And Ellie Bartowski had made Sarah Walker's day.

Considering that Ellie had her hair pulled back in a loose pony tail and was wearing a pair of men's boxers and a halter top that had seen far too many washings and that some men would find far too revealing, Sarah Walker was, indeed, by comparison, perfect.

Chuck walked into the living room wondering why Agent Walker was here. There hadn't been a scheduled briefing and he was sure all the paperwork for the new company had been completed. Maybe she was coming by to tell him she was going back to her family for the holidays? That would be nice except that meant that John Casey would be his contact handler and Chuck hated that almost as much as Casey did.

Mustering up a smile for her, he got right to the point. "Why are you here, Ms. Walker? I thought we'd covered everything regarding the paperwork last evening? Did I miss a signature?"

"No, everything is in order. I have a couple things to go over with you in private. Can we go for a drive? I'll have you back in less than an hour."

"Sure, let me grab a jacket. Then I'm all yours." Sarah lost her smile for a second. 'If only. But I have to be patient. It's much too soon for me to attempt anything vaguely romantic. His wife hasn't been gone a week yet. I have lots of time. And there'll be other opportunities.'

John Casey is monitoring the apartment, keenly aware that Agent Walker is breaking protocol with removing the asset from a monitored environment. With the sister taking a nap and normal background noises there was little possibility anything Walker might tell the asset would be overheard – except by authorized parties. '_What game are you playing here, Walker? Surely you don't think screwing the mark is a good idea this close to his wife's death? Even I know that's a bad idea.'_

They drove over to the final site selected for the company offices. It was about a mile from the BuyMore but in a more upscale commercial area. Sarah pulled a key from her purse, grabbed a metal case from behind Chuck's seat and they went in to the "lobby" area.

"Ok, Chuck. Lesson #1. Trust no one but me. Reason: I have no agenda. None. This is my last assignment. I've made the decision to quit the CIA and get a real life. It's just that simple. But please, don't tell anyone. The CIA does not encourage its top agents to retire, at least not while they're physically able to perform. I don't think they give a rat's ass about our mental conditions."

"Sarah, if you want to quit, why can't you?" He was not naïve but wanted to hear her say the words that would explain this sudden decision.

"Oh, they'd let me quit. No problems with that. The problem is I'd either disappear or be 'accidentally' killed in a robbery, a car accident, a mugging, a plane crash. Pick your poison. Oh, yeah, and poisoned."

"So how are you going to swing this being your last mission? Are you going to go 'underground' or something like that?"

"It's called 'running off the grid', Chuck. But I have options most don't have so I'm hoping I'll be able to avoid any unpleasantness. But that's not important. Give me your iPhone, Chuck. I have to clone the chip and give you a new one. A better one."

"Chuck, I'll also be at your apartment Christmas Eve and whenever you want me there Christmas Day or any other time for that matter." She looked at him, made eye contact so he'd know she was desperately serious.

"I can't go 'home' because I don't have one. My foster parents are too involved and when I go dark I don't want any suspicion to fall on them. They are the most important people in the world to me; well two of the most important, and I will not risk their safety. Not for anything or anyone. Also, I'm here on this assignment until it ends favorably for you. I won't abandon you. I'm your handler until you're free."

She opened the case and flipped a power switch and fiddled with some dials and then took his phone from him. She popped out his chip and placed it into the machine and pushed a button. She put a 'clean' chip into another buss and pushed a second button.

Thirty seconds later the machine chimed softly and Sarah removed the 'clean' chip and replaced it in Chuck's phone.

"Go ahead, turn it back on. Check your stuff. It's all there."

Chuck ran through the address book, some applications and some stored data. It appeared to be duplicated.

His phone rang and he saw S. Walker in the caller ID. "Go ahead and answer it, Chuck."

He pushed the button and watched the display. 'S. Walker' appeared then disappeared and 'S. Walker, _secure_' appeared.

"Here's Lesson #2. When I call you on your cell you'll always see 'secure' if it's me and not someone who's cloned my phone. I enter a 2-digit secure code before the call to engage the secure feature. No one can hear us on a scanner now. And unless they have the exact same chip, Chuck, they can't ever eavesdrop on us. It's the closest I can come to guaranteeing you secure conversations between us. You can say anything on that phone and no one but me will be able to understand us."

"What's my 2-digit secure code, Sarah?" He was intrigued and also alarmed that so draconian a step was required.

"Whatever you want it to be. To program your code just hit 'program' then *3313 and you'll be prompted for your code. When you want to use the code for a call to another secured phone enter #*90 and then your 2-digit code and then the number. The #*90 and your code will not appear in your display. Another security feature."

"Now, have you ever fired a fire arm before, Chuck? I need to evaluate your levels and schedule basic training. Not like in the Army so don't go all pale on me. Just to make sure you can defend yourself if needs be."

An hour later Sarah dropped Chuck off at his apartment.

"So what time should I plan on appearing as the VP of Finance, Chuck?" She was smiling like it was a private joke when, in fact, they both new it was a deadly game they'd embarked on.

"Christmas Eve is an 'any time' thing. We have a light buffet and friends come and go. It's really Christmas that gets Ellie's motor running. If she weren't a doctor she'd be a chef. She loves to cook. Christmas is her finest hour. But do me one favor, Agent Walker, come as Sarah; leave the fancy duds and attitude at your hotel. I'd like to spend more time with Sarah. She's a lot less intimidating."

She was shocked. Stunned. Pole axed. "W-w-why sure, Chuck. I just thought you wanted to keep this as an Agent/Asset thing."

"Well, hell, it's Christmas and even CIA agents need a break from the stiff-as-a-board-I-take-no-shit role. So wear comfortable clothes tomorrow night. Be prepared to drink to excess, kick off your shoes and relax. It'll be your Christmas present to and from the Bartowskis. Please."

She was so touched she almost burst into tears. She ran her fingers through her hair and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Chuck picked up on that and took her hand in his and just smiled saying, "it's just us here, Sarah, no roles, no masks, just us. It's ok to be human around me. I guarantee I won't take advantage of you. You know that. Besides, if we're going to be business partners I need to know your tolerance for booze. Can't have you doing table dances with the clients. Bad for our image."

He meant it as a joke but had no idea how much that hurt her. She knew he didn't, couldn't, know how far she'd gone with marks. She was so happy this guy wasn't a mark.

"OK, now get out of here before you make me cry. Not a pretty sight, Charles Bartowski, bony-assed surfer boy. I'll see you tomorrow about 7ish."

As Chuck walked to his apartment he wondered if some of the 'real' Sarah Walker had just shown her face or if this was simply another award-winning performance by Agent Sarah Walker.

Agent Sarah Walker had driven less than a mile before she was forced to pull over and stop her Porsche because she could no longer see to drive. She cried for herself and she cried for her asset. She didn't know which one she felt sorrier for.  


* * *

He spent the rest of the night trying to find a logic error in his program. Ellie knock on his door and reminded him about a zillion things she needed done for tomorrow and then artfully steered the conversation to the subject of Lynn and Christmas. She was going to heading out for her shift at the hospital and wanted to get said what had to be said.

"Chuck, I know tomorrow is going to be hard for you and Christmas Day is going to be even worse so I'm glad you asked Sarah Walker to join us. And yeah, little brother, I know you told Devon I invited him to Christmas Dinner, so I think it's entirely appropriate that the four of us have dinner. But Chuck, if at any time you start feeling overwhelmed, just give me the 'look' and I'll cover for you. Take a walk, borrow my car, anything you need to do. I just want you to be happy, Chuck, as happy as you can be right now."

"Chuck, I miss her so much and I know you, little brother, are putting on a brave face. You don't need to, Chuck. Not around me and probably not around Devon. And I think there's a lot more depth to Sarah Walker than you credit her for. I think she would understand your pain and your need to close us out for a while. But don't shut us out altogether. 'Lynn' is _not a dirty word_, Chuck. You can say her name, you can share her with us if you want. She was a wonderful part of my family and I miss her, Chuck, I miss my little sis and it's not fair that you think you have to be this brave stalwart shield for us."

John Casey was listening in to every word that had been said hoping to find out what Walker had discussed with the asset. So far nothing but a couple of yuppies feeling sorry for themselves at Christmas time. He felt almost sorry for Ellie Bartowski. She was so attached to her soon-to-be-dead brother. 'Overcome with grief, Mr. Bartowski took his own life with…' Casey figured he'd fill in the blank depending upon the situation.

He hated Christmas.

________________________________________________________________________

December 24  
Casa Bartowski  
8am

"Lynn, baby, it's Christmas Eve and we don't have to work so let's just cuddle up here and sleep. I'm so tired, Lynn. You and Ellie kept me up half the night with your cackling. I'm never letting you drink that much wine again."

"Lynn."

"Lynn?"

_'Shit. Reality check, Bartowski. You were dreaming. It's another day here in Lynn-less Paradise. Only 259 more days to go, Chuckie boy. Hang in there. You can do it.'_

Chuck really hated it when he talked to himself because 'himself' was a mean son of a bitch who seemed to delight in torturing him.

Chuck got up and did the morning routine that had become so familiar. Embrace the Essence, take a shower and shave, make coffee and cross another day off his countdown calendar. He had toyed with the idea of an automated countdown on his screen saver but decided that was a tad too dramatic and also would cause his sister no end of worry and also because there was something 'old school' and more meaningful about taking a pen and physically crossing off a date on the calendar.

That took him until 9am. He wasn't tired enough to go back to bed. Ellie was due in any minute and he wanted to make sure everything on her list was taken care of just to save her any last minute angst. EllieAngst was not a pretty sight being somewhat akin to those heart-tugging pictures of baby Harp seals being beaten to death by ever so polite Canadians.

He heard his cell phone trilling and went in search of it following the sound to the corner of his room. He must have been careless and left it in his jeans pocket. Checking the caller ID he saw 'S. Walker _secure_ and remembering her instructions coded his phone before answering. He walked out into the courtyard.

"Hello, secure Sarah, how are you this fine brisk Christmas Eve morn?"

"Hey, Chuck, the proper form if alone or among team mates is, in your case "Bartowski, secure". She chuckled at his disdain for convention. She was looking forward to seeing how Chuck meshed with the intelligence communities other conventions. And she was putting her money on her asset.

"But I know it's you and you're in secure mode because it's displayed that way in caller ID. And you know it's me because you called me and when I answered it would only be in the same mode you called in. So why go through with the 'Bartowski, secure' routine?"

She openly laughed now. "Chuck, just humor me and do it, please? I know it's stupid to someone who has already figured it all out but it is tradition and considered professional spycraft. Someday you might want to impress someone with your knowledge of the trade."

"All right. Point Walker. What do you want?"

"What are you doing New Year's Eve, Chuck?"

"Um, probably the same thing I do most nights, Sarah, work then sleep. Maybe a little booze, why?"

"We have our first mission for Team Bartowski. Sort of a low risk operation to ease you into the way we work and how we expect to interface with the intersect."

"Fine, I'm good to go. No plans. Can you tell me more or is it 'need to know' stuff?"

"Chuck, I just wanted to make sure you were free, that's all. Oh, do you own a tux?"

"No, don't own one. Why?"

"Because Charles Carmichael and his girlfriend and financial advisor are going to a party New Year's Eve at a major arms dealer's home in Sausalito. It's black tie. Don't worry, we'll get you prepared. Just don't plan anything for Monday, Chuck. We're going shopping."

"Sarah, who the hell is Charles Carmichael?"

"You are, it's your nom de spy. Like it? The computer at Langley selected it based on all your traits and habits that were on file."

"Yeah, very white bread. Why, was Talleywhacker already taken?"

She laughed a low chuckle that he'd never heard before. Then it grew to a laugh and then muted into giggles.

"Oh, Chuck, we're going to have so much fun messing with the CIA's collective mind. I don't think they've realized yet just what they've let themselves in for. 'Talleywhacker'! Oh, my God…" and she was laughing again and just hung up on him.

Chuck just grinned. It wasn't often you reduced one of the agency's top spies to a giggling schoolgirl. And if he'd stopped to think about it, it was the best he'd felt since Lynn died.

Chuck heard Ellie pull up in her new SUV. He returned to the apartment and walked into the kitchen and poured her a cup of coffee and then pulled one of yogurt yuckies out of the fridge and put it all on the bar.

"Morning, Chuck. Oh, coffee. Thank you, thank you. So how are you this morning, little brother?"

He knew what she was asking and he knew what she meant to say. "I'm really feeling pretty damned good, sis. Now, I got your list of gotta-doos and need you to see if there are any last minute items. Nothing will be open soon so if you think you need it, better tell me now."

"Oh, yeah. I'm going to a swanky New Year's Eve party with Sarah to meet some more investors in Sausalito. Apparently I need a tux so Monday she's taking me shopping, can you believe it? Me in a tux? Way too cool for an ex-Nerd Herder."

Ellie gaped then smiled. Maybe this Sarah was just what he needed to pull himself away from the abyss. She'd heard him crying in the shower and it was all she could do to prevent herself from joining him in tears of her own. _'Oh, Lynn, I think maybe he's going to be OK. But watch over him, Lynn. Grief's such a slippery slope.'_

He spent the next 2 hours running around Burbank trying to find a "few" last minute additions to her list. Just a few.  


* * *

Christmas Eve

Casa Bartowski

7:00pm

The friends of Clan Bartowski began to arrive a 7pm. Morgan and his new honey, Anna Wu, and the two total idiots, Lester and Jeff, two nurses from Ellie's hospital and Devon Woodcomb.

Ellie played the perfect hostess directing people around like a restaurant traffic cop, making sure everyone knew everyone else, that people's plates were full and their choices of beverages met. She loved the work almost as much as she loved the ER after a 10-car pile up on the Santa Monica Freeway. A busy Ellie was a happy Ellie.

Chuck wandered around greeting the guests, friends really, and exchanging the usual platitudes about the season and adroitly sidestepping any references to Lynn. He had been almost abrupt in disengaging from the quarrelsome twosome of Anna and Morgan. Anna reminded him of Lynn and this was one night he wanted to be free of the burden of grief.

He had almost lost it when Anna had pulled him into a fiercely possessive hug and said softly in his ear "How you holding up, round eye? I'm here if you need me. I miss her, too, surfer boy. More than I thought possible. So call me, day or night, I can be here in just a few minutes. No obligations, either, Chuck."

He knew what she meant and while it touched him on one level it bothered him on some many others. It took him a while to figure out that for Anna Wu sex was therapeutic and did not signify a commitment.

Chuck walked directly into the kitchen and took a six-pack of Bud Light from the refrigerator and walked out into the courtyard for some air. It was times like this he wished he still smoked. He popped open the first bottle and practically drained it on the first pull.

"I see you're hogging the beer again, Bartowski. That could be seen as a rude gesture on Christmas Eve."

Sarah had walked into the courtyard and stopped to watch her asset finish off a beer in what seemed to be one long swallow. He sat on the edge of the fountain and looked so forlorn that it was hard for her not to just walk over and hug him and tell him everything was going to be all right.

She'd never thought to do that with Bryce Larkin. Oh, she'd cared for Bryce Larkin, just not very damned much, especially near the end of their partnership. The sex was a needed release from the tension of the job. His 'I love you" exclamations usually were just fillers in the silence of sex. Something he thought she expected. She never said it back, well, not in the last six months.

She'd seen through his thin façade and recognized the shallowness of his character. He was the perfect operative, self-serving, uncaring and untouched by the chaos surrounding him.

Chuck Bartowski was the exact polar opposite of her former partner. He cared. He was touched. He was concerned for those around him and even now he sought to distance himself from those happy souls so as not to dampen their celebrations.

Chuck reached in and pulled out a bottle and popped the top with his thumb and handed it to her. "Nope, got a lot more where these came from. Also, if you'd prefer something more appropriate to the holiday, there's Ellie's eggnog although it's probably been spiked at least twice already. I'd stick with something that was sealed when you got it" His smirk said a lot about the atmosphere in the apartment.

"So, why are you sitting out here? Are you the official 'Hi, welcome, here's a beer' greeter?" She _would_ put a smile back on his handsome face.

"No, although that might work with Ellie. I just got a bit overwhelmed with a comment one of Lynn's friends not so subtly whispered in my ear during the obligatory 'let's go hug Chuck and bring up how much he must miss his wife' hug. Just brought the whole thing back into perspective, y'know?"

Sometimes Sarah knew instinctively that nothing said would lead to more being said. A conundrum of interrogation training.

"She offered to 'console' me anytime, day or night. I mean, what's up with that, Sarah? Anna was her best friend and she's offering to warm our bed when the body's not even cold? Are people that unfeeling or selfish that they'd think I'd even consider having sex with another woman after …" He stopped speaking and took another pull on his bottle of beer.

"And that's why I'm out here greeting the holiday season with such joy and abandonment."

Sarah was torn between just sitting with him and alternately going into the apartment and ripping all the hair from Anna Wu's head. Her best friend offered her grieving husband a pity fuck! How disrespectful to Chuck and his wife. Dead wife. Whatever.

She opted to just sit with him. She reached over and took his free hand and just held it.

"Chuck, people grieve in different ways. Some of us just choke off the emotions and continue on with life. Some people just stop living and wait to die. And some people feel the need to connect with the bereaved and sex is one way to do that. It's not that she's trying to take Lynn's place, more like she's trying to distract you from your grief if only for a little while, that's all." She couldn't believe she was explaining that skank's actions and excusing them!

"How do you handle grief, Sarah? What does the CIA tell its agents to do with their personal grief, Sarah? Do you have any secrets you can tell me because this whole damned thing is starting to wear on me. I'm trying to move on like she wanted, I'm trying new things. I've got her damned list I've got to take care of."

"Chuck, I've never lost anyone I care about enough to grieve for but the Agency simply says that we should bury those emotions and deal with them when the mission is completed. They don't tell us _how_ to deal with them, just _when_, so I really don't have any magic spells or spy techniques to make this all go away. Just maybe don't be so hard on yourself. Allow time for 'Chuck' and then time for 'Lynn' and maybe even 'Chuck and Lynn'. But don't get stuck in the trough of the wave, Chuck. Stay on the crest."

She stood up and took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the fountain seat. Grabbing both hands in hers, she pulled him upright, closer than she'd intended and he reached out to steady himself with both palms cupping her shoulders. Their gazes met and a huge amount of information was exchanged but not acknowledged. It was not time for it.

"Thanks, Sarah. You always know what to say. Must be the good spy training. Thanks. Let's go in. There are some people I want you to meet."

The rest of the evening passed in relative calm. Sarah sat with Ellie on the bar stools and watched Chuck as he maneuvered through the emotions of the evening. "Sarah, you've made a difference in Chuck. I can see it. He's more confident and less tentative. Losing Lynn and then you appearing in his life was not a coincidence. I think it was Fate lending a hand. Regardless, thanks for being here. He's more comfortable with you than with people he's known for years. I don't feel nearly so guilty for leaving him now."

"Ellie, he's a special man. He has depths of strength he hasn't even begun to call on. I'll make you a deal. You stay open to the idea of Devon visiting and I'll stay open to the idea of staying longer. Fair is fair, Ellie. You got to pay the piper."

They both laughed knowing that Devon visiting was a foregone conclusion and that Sarah Walker was more than open to staying with her brother.

"Hey, Chuck, walk me to my car? I think I've heading back to the hotel."

"Sure. Bored to death?"

"Oh, no. I really had a good time. I'm glad I succumbed to your nagging. I would have been bored to death at the hotel. And I'm looking forward to tomorrow as well. Ellie and I are becoming friends. I don't have many 'out of the business' friends and it's nice to have someone to just 'girltalk' to."

"Sarah, you're welcome here anytime. You don't need an invitation or a special reason. Since this thing in my head is your responsibility, feel free to wander in any time to check it out. And as for tomorrow, come when you can, the earlier the better. Not much to do but drink and watch football but Devon will be here and he's good for a wild tale or two."

"I'll keep that 'open invitation' in mind, Chuck Bartowski, now step away from the vehicle so you aren't fried by the exhaust. Night, Chuck. Merry Christmas." A quick peck on the cheek and she was gone.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas".  


* * *

Friday, December 25

Casa Bartowski

8am

He opened one eye and looked at the clock. Oh, goody, he'd slept 2 hours past his usual up-and-at-em time. He rolled over to her side of the bed and cringed when he hit the cool sheets. He buried his face in her pillow saying a very muffled "Merry Christmas, Lynn. I love you."

He took his shower and then ambled back to his room and pulled up the LA Times on-line edition. He went back to the archives and set the search for the 20th through 23rd and topic 'crime report' and began his search.

One name leaped out at him and he clicked the link for the small story.

_Yvegny Andryevich Petrovich, 57, was found shot to death in an alley behind his Club Mockva supper club. Apparently Petrovich had been identified as a 'snitch' and in the style of the Russian Mafia several $100 bills had been stuffed in his mouth. This is a classic calling card for the Russian Mafia and the amount and denomination of the bills signify that he had provided information on important figures in the upper echelon of the crime organization. Petrovich was a well-known and outspoken figure with ties to organized crime, pornography, prostitution, drugs and contract murder. Although arrested more than 30 times, no indictments were ever served. Witnesses disappeared, were murdered or family members maimed and no one would come forth to testify. There were no witnesses to this crime and police report that they have no suspects at this time._

He wasn't concerned with the man's death per se. He was concerned with his rap sheet and with one other fact: the second time he'd flashed on Major Casey it listed his contacts in the old Soviet Bloc. One of his primary operatives and sources of information had been one Yvegny Andryevich Petrovich.

He felt a sudden chill. Was it coincidence or had the government murdered his wife? And why kill his wife? Lynn Bartowski was an innocent soul who had never done anything wrong except be married to the human intersect._** He, Chuck Bartowski, had been the real target. Lynn was collateral damage.**_

Agent Walker had told Chuck that Casey had actually been working at the BuyMore prior to her arrival in Los Angeles. While it didn't exonerate Sarah Walker, it did implicate Casey. Although it was totally circumstantial, he believed it to be no coincidence. Chuck no longer believed in coincidences, not where the government was concerned.

His first thought was to contact Agent Walker and run all this past her. But if she were involved he'd be putting his neck into her noose. He had to find a way to get John Casey to somehow implicate himself in this. And he couldn't figure out how but he was working on it. And once it was done, he had no idea what to do about it.

The government would either bury it or bury him and since the NSA would get 2 points for a dead Chuck and a dead intersect he was naturally leaning toward premature burial.

He suddenly started to laugh. He wanted to die a few days ago and now he was worried a government agent was planning on killing him. Merry Christmas, indeed.

He took stock in his situation. He had a handler he definitely could not trust, who had ties to a man who killed people and who in turned had been murdered immediately after his wife's death in an unsolved traffic accident. He had a 2nd handler who, while telling him she didn't trust her partner and he should only trust her, also had an unbroken string of successful assassinations through seduction.

He was so screwed.


	7. Drunks Fools and Litterbugs

GreenEyedGirl7

_A/N: I don't own Chuck. If I did he'd lose the mullet._

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
__Tampa Bay Anchorage_

**

* * *

**

**Casa Bartowski  
****December 25  
****4pm**

Dinner was wonderful as usual. Ellie had outdone herself and had also liberated the contents of three bottles of wine. Devon wasn't drinking because he went in to the hospital at 11pm and Chuck was just quietly watching the action, occasionally offering a comment to keep the conversation in 'safe zones'. Sarah Walker had all her spy senses on hold. This was a night she'd promised herself that Agent Walker would not appear. She just wanted to be normal for one night.

Ellie was a crying drunk. She always had been and probably always would be. Rarely was she a happy drunk after she'd passed a certain point. She was well past that point and that was when crying-drunk-Ellie brought up Lynn.

"You know Chuck, I thin' that Sara'h here is a wonaful woman and I thin' you an' she sh-sh-should spend more time together. I know, I know, it's too early bu' Chuck, Sa'rah is alive and Lynn, my po' baby sis'ter, is dead. You wear her around your neck like a goddam martyr, Chuck. You're only 26 yearsssssold, and you're already a dead man. Live, Chuck, for crissakes, live."

Chuck stood up so quickly that he forgot his long legs were stretched out under the table. He almost knocked the table over and only the quick wits of Devon and Sarah kept things from plunging to the floor.

He looked at his sister and Sarah saw something in his eyes that she never would have guessed he was capable of…hate. Cold and unfettered hatred toward his sister. He reached over and tore the vial and chain from around her neck. He was shaking with rage and when Devon stood and put his hand on his shoulder Chuck executed a perfect Judo throw and tossed Devon from the dining room table to land on his back on the couch. Sarah's jaw dropped.

He looked at Sarah with a distressed look and the turned on his heel and walked across the living room and flung the door open and walked out of the apartment into the cold.

Sarah ran to check on Devon. He just had the wind knocked out of him but he managed to gasp out "man, those Judo lessons Lynn made him take are awesome." She looked at a now crying Ellie huddled on the floor and helped Devon to his feet. "I'm ok. Go after him, Sarah. I've never seen Chuck so angry. I'll handle Ellie. I'll put her to bed and then wait on you guys to get back. He just needs time to cool off. I've never known Ellie to be so cruel. I'm sure it was unintentional. Just see to Chuck, will you, please?"

She saw Chuck about 50 yards away walking briskly towards the west. She knew he'd head for the beach. It was 12 miles away and on Christmas Day he'd get no cab or bus service. She ran back to the apartment and grabbed Chuck's jacket, her own, her purse and keys and ran out to her car.

She pulled up beside him, leaned over and pushed the passenger door open. "Chuck, please get in the car. I'll drive you to the beach. Please, it's cold and I brought your jacket. C'mon surfer boy, get in the car. Please?"

He got in the car and didn't slam the door. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, it must have been very embarrassing for you. My sister is a poor drunk and she's not responsible for her mouth when she drinks. Is Devon all right? I didn't mean to hurt him. He startled me and in my frame of mind he was a convenient target. I guess six months of Judo lessons 3 times a week paid off. Is he OK?"

Sarah thought before she spoke. Here he was, the victim of a cruel and thoughtless verbal attack by someone who was closer to him that anyone else in the world and he was apologizing to her and worried about Devon.

"He's fine. Just got the wind knocked out of him. I've never seen that particular throw before, Chuck, can you show it to me sometime? Devon's putting her to bed and he'll wait on our return. There's no hurry, Chuck. We'll drive out to the beach and you can decompress. Put your jacket on, babe, you'll catch cold."

Sarah cringed. _Oh, my God, I just called him 'babe'. Oh shit._

She didn't have to worry about it. Chuck was deep in thought and probably didn't hear anything after 'There's no hurry'. But still, she'd slipped, badly. She was letting an emotional attachment form with her asset and that was both stupid and unprofessional.

And dangerous. Although she was loath to admit it, the order to terminate this operation could come at any moment and if she were emotionally compromised she would fail in her mission.

"Look, we really screwed up your Christmas. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to give you a sense of family. And now you know just how screwed up my family is. Parents abandoned us, no relatives willing to take us in, living hand to mouth and dodging the social workers and the child welfare people for 3 years until I turned legal age and could stay out of the foster system. Our formative years were spent learning to con government do-gooders out of food stamps, housing credits, utility assistance, Medi-Cal, anything free and undocumented. I worked after school, before school, summers, vacations and so did Ellie and we pooled everything and made it work. Any thing that didn't require a parent's signature. So I guess you could say we're the dysfunctional family you want to _not_ become involved with. Especially me, Sarah, _especially_ me. "

If anyone had asked her exactly and precisely the moment she became irreversibly compromised she would point this moment in time.  


* * *

She drove them to the beach and together they walked out on the sandy strand to the water line. She's come prepared this time with two blankets stashed in her car. She sat quietly, not speaking, occasionally glancing at the man sitting beside her who stared out at the horizon and said nothing. Sarah Walker knew that words were not necessary. She just put her arm through his and leaned against him, waiting for him to finish whatever it was he was doing.

Sarah knew the price he was paying for his silence and admired his ability to focus and suborn the anger he was feeling. She'd seen the predatory gaze he'd cast toward his sister and tried hard to remember the last time she'd seen that look on a civilian. She couldn't. Ex-military, ex-operatives, perhaps law enforcement, but never on a civilian. She wondered how he managed the anger and rage he must have felt. She could not have done it and she was a trained agent, well-versed in anger management and in suppressing emotions. Once again she wondered if the CIA and NSA had misjudged Chuck Bartowski. She certainly had.

Chuck had finally beaten the dragon of his anger. It had almost overwhelmed him at the apartment. He had felt the rage building as Ellie trashed his feelings for his wife and then made the very obvious point that Sarah Walker was alive whereas his wife was not. How simple a comparison and yet how destructive a truth her words had been. He was being disloyal to his beloved Lynn by even considering anything other than a professional friendship with Agent Sarah Walker whether today or 358 days into the future. And then when he'd been touched by Devon, well, the dragon struck.

He'd almost been thrown out of school when he'd come upon Morgan being beaten for his lunch money by a gang of middle school terrorists and had nearly killed one of them. If it hadn't been for the intercession of the guidance counselor who had a file several inches thick on the ringleader of the gang, he'd have been dumped into the California juvenile justice system, never to return. He'd be in Chino or Lompoc or dead.

He stretched muscles that had tightened up due to the tension and the cold. He glanced over at his handler and was surprised and pleased to see that she was asleep. She looked young, vulnerable and beautiful asleep. _'We all wear masks. She wears hers while sleeping'. _

Chuck scooted around behind her putting his legs on either side of her and leaned her back against his chest. He bundled her up in her blankets against the cold and enjoyed the feeling of a living human being against him. He missed human contact. He hadn't realized it until now. He held her blanketed form in his arms and smelled the vanilla of her shampoo.

She squirmed around and was snuggled closely against him. Even asleep she recognized his scent and felt safe and secure. As she began to waken Sarah realized she was in deep doo-doo. She was supposed to protect him and she was asleep. As she started to struggle to sit up and untangle herself from the warmth of the blankets he stopped her by whispering "Don't. Please. Just a few minutes longer. This must seem totally inappropriate but we've done nothing wrong. You were tired. I was wired. We helped each other. Please, don't be upset with me. Just give me these few last minutes."

"I'll give you as long as you need as often as you need it. I don't want to move either. That's the best I've slept in ages. Thank you, Chuck." She found one of his hands and gasped at the cold. She put his hand between hers and rubbed briskly warming it.

They sat there for another 15 minutes.

"As much as I enjoy and need this, Sarah Walker, my bony ass is numb. I think you need to drop me off at the apartment and head back to the hotel. If you get bored over the weekend, call me. I'll let you use me as your napstop…" He laughed at the butchered 'backstop'. "Otherwise, you get to take me shopping for a tux and all the accoutrements on Monday."

"Chuck, about what happened. I understand it better than you might imagine. Don't worry about it. The time spent with you on the beach was worth any drama Ellie might provide. Don't be embarrassed either. Your reaction was human and direct and I admired both your style and your control. You're going to have to show me that throw sometime. That was so cool. And if I get bored, I'll call, I promise."

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
December 25  
9pm**

Sarah dropped him off and watched him until he was in the apartment. Part of her wanted to go with him but the Agent in her knew that she needed time and space away from her asset to reestablish her emotional base. Maybe Sunday afternoon would be soon enough. She shifted into first and peeled out, leaving 2 black streaks to mark her departure. She had every good intention of avoiding exposure to the Bartowski magic. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

The last thing Chuck needed was a confrontation with Devon over his treatment of Ellie. Engaged or not, Devon loved his sister and Chuck wanted to avoid making a bad situation worse. When he got home, Devon was sitting on the couch watching the end of some movie.

"I put her to bed, Chuck. I had to give her a shot. She was hysterical. I gave her the lightest dosage I could considering her blood alcohol level must be near the legal limit for blind drunk. I wrapped up all the leftovers and even did the dishes. I've got to go to work now. I'll stop by tomorrow morning and check on her. I doubt she'll be up before 10am unless she gets sick."

"Yeah, thanks, listen about the Judo thing…" Chuck began.

"Hey, that was awesome. I thought your lady friend was going to have a stroke when she ran out of here. Man, you need to keep tabs on her. Someday you two are going to be together. I said someday, Chuck. I know what you have to do and I respect you for it but don't lose her, Chuck. You won't get a _third_ chance at being happy with a beautiful woman by your side. First Lynn and now Sarah. Awesome. Later. I have to fly or I'll be late."

Chuck stared at the closed door and wondered why everyone was suddenly a yenta playing matchmaker. He didn't need a woman. He had a woman. She was just temporarily unavailable – because she was dead.

He checked to make sure all the appliances were off, locked the front door and went back to take a shower. If he was really lucky, Ellie would sleep through the night and he'd find an excuse to be gone most of tomorrow. She worked nights again and it would be a welcome relief to have her sleeping while he was awake. It would take him that long to forgive her, maybe longer. Maybe by the time she left on the 15th he would be able to feel something other than disgust for his sister.  


* * *

When Sarah Walker got back to her hotel she had centered herself. She was back in control. The brief hiatus to normality had been shattered by a drunken woman pointing out the obvious to a grieving young man who'd reacted with such controlled violence that Sarah Walker had become both incredibly aroused as well as extremely frightened. She'd gasped when her asset had exploded at the table almost knocking the heavy wooden dining room table over with the pure physical reaction his anger had taken.

When Chuck had snatched the small vial containing Lynn's ashes from around Ellie's neck she had seen how close he'd come to doing something far worse. And then Devon had put his hand on Chuck's shoulder to stop Chuck from doing anything else to his sister and he'd used a Judo move to toss him away from the table and onto the couch.

As she replayed it in her mind she'd seen him calculating where the throw would land his much bigger and more athletic opponent before executing the move. Such situational awareness was rare even in trained agents but unheard of among the untrained masses that made up the greater good. There was so much more to her asset than met the eye. She felt sorry for anyone who underestimated him. She began to feel sorry for Agent Sarah Walker.

It was Agent Sarah Walker who had run out of the apartment after ensuring that Devon was uninjured but it was Sarah who had driven after him. And on the beach, oh, yeah, that was definitely Sarah the woman. Sarah the Agent had the night off.

When she'd awoken from a brief nap she found that somehow she'd moved from leaning against her asset to being surrounded by him. On the edge of 'awake' she'd felt herself turn into him and burrow down deeper wanting to be as close to him as possible. He was safety and security, he was warmth and he was _there_. Sarah had had an epiphany. She knew she'd have to distance herself from Chuck Bartowski.

She started to struggle with the cocoon of blankets he'd wrapped her in when he's whispered "Don't. Please. Just a few minutes longer. This must seem totally inappropriate but we've done nothing wrong. You were tired. I was wired. We helped each other. Please, don't be upset with me. Just give me these few last minutes."

The warm breathy words whispered into her ear were more than she could bear. Her core turned to goo and she knew without a doubt that she'd do anything for this man. If he had touched her, perhaps just allowed his lips to brush her ear, she would have had him right there and then on the beach. Instead she mumbled some idiot words and had taken one of his big hands in hers and had been shocked by how cold it was. She rubbed it between hers and warmed it. Oh, how she's wanted to do something entirely different with it.

'I need a shower. A hot shower. Then a cold shower. Maybe two cold showers. Oh, I am so screwed… but I am so looking forward to the coming months.'

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
Sunday, December 27**

Saturday had been perfect. He'd avoided Ellie, finally found a calligrapher to do the letter to Lynn's grandfather and he'd found he had no difficulty at all in dictating it to his scribe. The old woman had looked at him strangely when he'd first come into her shop and asked her if she could write a letter for him but she'd quoted a fair price and he'd agreed and even paid in advance.

When he began speaking slowly and watched her artfully transcribe his English into a dialect used in the Golden Triangle region she'd stopped and looked at him. Here he was, an Occidental, a white man, honoring the wishes of his dead wife to honor her ancestors. Such a strange world when her own grandchildren wanted nothing more than to be 'normal' and eschewed the traditions of their ancestors while this young man recounted a personal tragedy to a man he'd never met nor would likely meet in the future but shared a bond of love with a dead girl, all for the sake of a tradition he didn't follow.

She tried to imagine the old man reading the letter and staring at the small, carved sandal wood box that held a portion of his granddaughter's earthly remains. Would he feel sorrow or would he just nod and place the box in the local temple and get on with his life. He'd never met his granddaughter and felt no bond with her. How would be react?

When the letter was finished and she was satisfied with her work, she read the letter back to the young man to make sure it was as he'd dictated. He did not speak, just nodded and she knew this one was made of older stuff than the young. This one had a spirit about him. He was one to be reckoned with.

Chuck was satisfied. He reached into his pocket and removed the last vial on its golden chain. He asked the old woman to please include it with the letter as a token of his respect. He also asked her to include a photograph that he'd brought wrapped in delicate paper and silk. She looked at him asking silent permission to look at the photo and he just nodded. A beautiful girl with green eyes in the arms of her husband standing on a beach, her hand over his heart but the tattooed glyph of her family clearly evident on the chest of the man. Such love.

She rewrapped the photo and included the vial and chain in the paper and silk and placed it, the scroll and the sandalwood box in the mailing carton. She addressed it both in English and in the dialect of the region. Before she sealed the box she took out another smaller piece of rice paper and wrote something else on it and carefully rolled it tight. Then she shouted something in a foreign tongue and a young girl brought out a red candle and a seal. She lit the candle and let the melting wax flow along the scroll's edge sealing it. She lightly embossed her seal's image and placed the final scroll into the box, sealed it and returned it to the young man.

She had been in this country fifty-eight years and never once in all that time had an American shown such respect for another's traditions and beliefs. Such a shame that a tragedy had befallen them. Such children they would have brought forth.

Chuck had just barely made it to the post office and took care of mailing the package. He sent it the fastest and most secure method they had available although the clerk thought to himself that this package would likely be pilfered by some foreign mail clerk and never see it's destination. He'd be wrong. The small scroll with the White Dragon Tong seal would insure that the package was delivered with its contents intact although probably opened several times and hastily resealed and sent on its way.

The rest of Saturday had been spent walking around the mall just enjoying the crowds. No need to hurry, no need to worry. He was just putting in the required hours until another day was done.

By the time he got home Ellie had already gone to work. Devon had taken her out to dinner and then she'd driven on into work.

He worked on his program for a while and finally gave up.

He reviewed his notes for the presentation of the Bartowski Process and made some changes and finally decided it was done. He emailed both the General and Director and attached the examples and text of his presentation for their review and approval.

He wasn't _totally_ unaware of how bureaucrats worked and he'd included enough extraneous crap to warm even the coldest cockles of their withered hearts. He also asked them to schedule the presentation to ensure that "the maximum number of participants could be present with a minimal disruption to their important work." He was glad that sarcasm could not be easily detected.

He'd included Sarah Walker and John Casey in the distribution table of the email. Might as well start playing nice-nice with the animals.

* * *

Sarah Walker giggled as she read Chuck's email to General Beckman and Director Graham. She was certain only she and maybe Arthur Graham would read into certain phrases the sarcasm with which they'd been written. "…minimal disruption to their important work" was a phrase of genius. She'd have to warn him about it in the future when he dealt with Graham. Graham's bullshit detector was legendary.

* * *

John Casey acknowledged the importance of the presentation and was suitably impressed with the idiot's nod toward the importance of the attendees' work. Maybe he was learning something after all. Too little, too late, Mr. Intersect.

* * *

Chuck made his escape and successfully avoided his sister again by the simple expedient of going out his bedroom window when she came in the front door. It wasn't at all childish. He did not want to deal with his sister until he was certain she understood the ramifications of her _BIG MOUTH _on his life and those around him.

He considered going to the beach but blew off the idea. It was too cold to wait on a bus and taxis were unreliable. What he needed was a car. Something simple and laid back but something with muscle and speed but decent gas mileage, in other words, not a car currently being produced anywhere on planet Earth. No, not a car.

**Burbank Harley-Davidson  
****4pm**

"Now, Mr. Bartowski, you are the proud owner of a previously-owned Harley. All broken in and ready to roll. You've got the full warranty package and insurance and temp plates so I'd suggest you invest in leathers and a helmet. Trucks and cars got zip respect for motorcycles, even big ones like this baby so be very careful until you're really ready to ride this baby. In a month or two you should feel comfortable enough to take it out on the Santa Monica. Until then though you'll probably have enough trouble just keeping it upright." The salesman had the check and didn't see the need to be nice at this point.

"Well, Nestor, I don't think that will be problem. I dirt-biked in the Baja and I've done some long touring, not on anything this big, but still respectable."

"You better dump the tennis shoes, Mr. Bartowski, you'll lose some toes if you sprag on with a shoe like that. I know you don't want to look like a Hell's Angel but those boots and leathers serve a purpose, as does the helmet. Get a helmet, Mr. Bartowski. Ride safe."

Chuck had leathers, boots and two helmets back at the apartment. The idiot salesman quit listening to anything he said after 'the check has cleared the bank' was forwarded to him by his finance unit.

Chuck had owned a smaller bike in college and made the trip occasionally from Stanford to L.A. but it was really more for transportation around the school. He and Bryce had gone to Vegas a couple of times and once they'd gotten really brave and went as far north as Seattle.

Lynn was interested in motorcycles and she used to regularly borrow one from her ex-boyfriend and she and Chuck would take the PCH or run down to Mexico on it. They would sometimes, money permitting, rent one for the weekend and take off for the hinterlands or the Baja. He hated riding behind her but loved the obvious advantages of having his hands free. Most times Lynn rode behind him, arms encircling him, sometimes letting her hands roam a little too freely. They started out for Vegas more than once but somehow always got distracted and ended up finding a motel or bed & breakfast.

He knew Ellie would spout the statistics about head trauma deaths on motorcycles but for once Chuck didn't care. Since helmets were optional in California he could do as he pleased. As long as any accidents were fatal, he didn't care. One way was as good as another.

He pulled up and parked next to Ellie's Saturn. As long as she didn't see him in leathers or with his helmet she'd never make the connection. As it was, when she was here, he wasn't and vice-versa.

He used the window and slipped into his room. It had been cold on the bike and a hot shower would be just what the doctor ordered. Then he'd have to dig through the junk in the closet and find his boots, jacket and riding leathers and his helmet.

Devon and Ellie were in the kitchen talking quietly. His entrance had gone unnoticed. Unless they were deaf or 'otherwise occupied' he'd never escape with a shower unheard. Well, it was going to happen some day. She'd crapped in her mess kit and he was not about to apologize for anything he'd done. He already was square with Devon and Sarah Walker and he owed Ellie nothing in the way of an apology nor was he interested right now in anything she had to say.

Chuck finished up in the shower and practically ran down the hall to his room. It wouldn't have mattered. Devon and Ellie were gone. Dodged another bullet.

He found his leathers, jacket and boots without any trouble. Organization was Lynn's middle name and everything was together and organized between 'his' and 'hers'. He tried everything on and was surprised at how loose the leathers were. He'd lost weight since the last time they'd been worn back in September. Lynn was not a fan of cold weather and after a last cold run up to the mountains she'd retired for the season.

'Too cold for me, Chuck. You've got all that meat on you. I'm just a little girl…' and he remembered how that conversation had ended. Such sweetness.

He decided he'd better master the bike's intricacies and discover any bad habits that were acceptable when riding smaller bikes but were unforgivable on larger ones. For example, Chuck had a habit of planting his foot when he drifted through a turn. If he did it on this bike he'd be wearing a cast. Just small things.

He'd been riding slowly and carefully, getting the feel for tipping points and speed breaks when he pulled up to a red light on Olympic about two blocks from the Coconut Grove. A large sedan pulled up beside him and the passenger lowered the window and dumped out the contents of an ashtray. Chuck looked at him and flashed.

Lt. Gen. Dominguez Alleman, principal leader of the Tupomaris guerrilla movement in the Yucatan. Wanted by the Mexican, Honduran and Panamanian governments for various crimes. Affiliated with known international terrorist groups and the narcoterrorists of the Medelin Cartel. Chuck's face shield was tinted so the flash was not apparent.

Shit, this was stuff the intersect was designed for. He allowed the sedan to pull out and he followed several car lengths behind while he called Agent Walker on his cell.

"Walker, secure."

"Bartowski, secure. Agent, I just flashed on…" and he went through the whole report. "What are your instructions? He's got Interpol and US warrants as well as other governments. This would be a real coup for the US and a gesture of good will to Mexico, Sarah. We can't let him go."

"Where are you, Chuck? Are you in Ellie's SUV?" He provided location, direction and speed and then accelerated and passed the sedan and pulled into a 7-11 parking lot. He gave her his location and told her he would tail the vehicle at a safe distance. This time of night traffic was light but there were enough vehicles that he wouldn't stand out.

"Casey's on the line with the General getting instructions. Follow him, Chuck, but at a safe distance. Do not call attention to yourself. You role is to follow and report, nothing else."

"OK with me. Talk to you later." He didn't know or care what the proper procedure was for ending a secure call. He only knew he hadn't felt this alive in a long time and was not going to lose this opportunity to show those government gnomes he was not just a walking laptop for their convenient use. He accelerated out of the parking lot and followed the sedan as it made it's way westward. He wasn't familiar with this part of town and wasn't sure exactly what became of Olympic. He knew if it didn't break into side streets he'd be swimming in the next 30 minutes.

He felt his phone vibrate and wished for the 10th time that he'd thought to bring the jumper to plug the phone into his helmet mike. He looked at the display and saw that it was General Beckman on secure phone.

"Bartowski, secure."

"Mr. Bartowski, break off pursuit immediately and return to Agent Walker's hotel for debriefing."

"General, debriefing for what? Nothings been done or accomplished. Aren't we going to take this guy out, General? It's what the intersect was designed for."

"Mr. Bartowski, follow orders. Agents of the DEA will intercept Alleman and detain him within 30 seconds. You may watch, Mr. Bartowski, but you may not approach them or make yourself known to them. This was an excellent operation, Mr. Bartowski, but your part in it is over. Return to Agent Walker's hotel for debriefing."

The bitch had hung up on him. Damn it. Return to the hotel, Mr. Bartowski; break off pursuit, Mr. Bartowski, be a good boy Mr. Bartowski. Goddamned all government gnomes.

* * *

Sarah Walker was pacing the sidewalk in front of her hotel, leather jacket buttoned up to keep her warm. Damn him. Who did he think he was? He was not a trained agent. He was an asset, a valuable, no_, the_ most valuable asset in existence right now. He had no right endangering himself. She was going to kick his ass after making sure he was all right.

She noticed the tall figure on the Harley pull into her hotel parking garage and take a spot reserved for motorcycles. She immediately noticed how well he filled out the riding leathers. They'd seen a lot of usage as had the jacket. Obvious evidence of a severe run in with the road was apparent on one sleeve. Other spots appeared worn but in excellent condition. If she were not an agent and were she not already interested in a certain tall curly-haired idiot/asset currently awaiting a tongue lashing, this guy would have piqued her interest.

And pique it he did anyway. He turned to face her and took off his helmet.

"Chuck Bartowski, what the hell are you doing running around town, riding a motorcycle, flashing on bad guys and acting like a wannabe agent?" She had shouted at him, strutting over to him and looking really pissed.

"Hi, Agent Walker, CIA. Reporting as ordered, demanded, nagged and threatened. How are you this fine evening? This is my motorcycle. This is my town. I was out for a ride. The guy was a passenger in the car beside me that stopped at a red light. He rolled down his window and he dumped an ash tray all over the place. I looked at him and flashed. I then called you and you gave me instructions that were followed to the letter and you called Casey and he called the General and she then called me and here I am. Did you get all that, Agent Walker? Words too big for you? Syntax incorrect for a government report? Well, answer me, damn it. I'm the intersect. This is what I'm for, isn't it?"

She looked at him for one long minute. "Come with me. We have a debriefing with the General." She walked to the lobby and walked over to the bank of elevators. She walked slowly so that he could catch up. She pushed the button and the door opened and she walked in and turned around and…no Chuck! Where the hell was he? She stormed off the elevator and stalked across the lobby, out the door and over to the parking garage.

He had his back to her and was on the phone. As she walked over to him she heard his side of the conversation.

"…Yes, Ellie, I know she's dead. I kissed her goodbye, I put my wedding ring in the palm of her hand and closed her fingers around it. I zipped the fucking bag shut so, yeah, Ellie, I know she's dead…I'm going to hang up now, Ellie. You need to call Devon and ask him to come over and stay with you until I get there…I know you're sorry, but that doesn't change things much, does it?…I don't know, Ellie, late…well, Ellie you threw him away just like you throw everyone but me away… You know what I mean, Ellie, you destroy every relationship you're in. Every one…No, I'm not being mean. I'm being truthful. I intend to do that a lot tonight, that's why I'm going to be late. Later, Eleanor. I have to go and I'm already on someone important's shit list."

He turned off the phone and hung his head. She could see the sigh from where she stood. Sometimes she forgot that life for the asset was a wee bit more complicated than the handler's.

"Are you coming, Chuck?" Sarah asked, walking over to him and putting her arm in his.

"Yeah, let's get this shit over with. I have to get back and get her calmed down. I swear I'm going to pour every ounce of liquor, wine, beer and booze down the drain. Wait, not the beer. She hates beer. Beer is for me. I'll keep the beer."

"How long is this going to take, Agent? I have things to do tonight that were unanticipated. I already gave you the briefing. It was what, 20 seconds, tops? What's the big deal. I can call it in, for Christ's sake."

"It's how we do things, Chuck. Get used to it."

Sixy minutes later General Beckman and Director Graham were still interrogating Chuck.

"So, Mr. Bartowski, you just happened to be riding your motorcycle down the boulevard and flashed on the General? Is that how it happened?"

"Yes, General, as I've already told you twice."

"So it was just coincidence? Nothing more, Mr. Bartowski? With all the streets in L.A. and all the cars stopped at red lights you just happened to be at that one and he just happened to dump his ash tray?"

"Director, you make it sound like a line from _Casablanca_, but yes, that's exactly how it happened. And now that we're coming up on the one-hour mark is there anything else you people require? As I told Agent Walker, unanticipated family duties have arisen. And as I also told her and am now telling you, I could have called this in or sent an email."

"Can either of you find fault with my actions? I followed orders precisely as directed and the DEA nabbed the bad guys and all is once again well with the world."

"No, Mr. Bartowski, there is no fault to be found. It was a textbook operation which is why we were so interested in specifics. You performed as an agent would have performed. Bravo. Team Intersect has it's first of many victories. Thank you, Mr. Bartowski, that will be all."

Casey hadn't said anything and now he just looked at Bartowski with that smirk of his. "Welcome to the big leagues, kid. Don't fuck it up. We play for keeps here."

"So do I, Major Casey, so do I. See you later, John." He knew it chapped his ass to be addressed by his first name and that's why he did it.

"I'll walk you out, Chuck." Sarah said. She had some serious apologizing to do. He'd done everything right, she'd overreacted and bitten his head off.

Chuck was getting on his bike when Sarah got on behind him and leaned up and whispered in his ear "take me for a spin, Agent Wannabe".

"No, not without a helmet." He took his helmet off and put it on her head and tightened the chinstrap. Next time he'd bring the spare helmet.

"Hang on tight. Don't lean into the turn, that's my job. Keep your body as upright and perpendicular to the ground as possible. Hang on tight, Agent Walker."

He didn't show off. He didn't do a wheelie. He didn't do unnecessarily sharp turns nor did he speed. He stopped at a red light and looked down at her hands. They were clasped across his stomach and obviously cold.

He took each of her hands by the wrist and pulled them apart and slid each hand into a special storm sleeve he'd sewn into the front of his jacket. The storm sleeve was to keep the wind out and opened up between the jacket and the rider. In this case, between the leather jacket and a t-shirted Chuck Bartowski. Lynn used to get cold hands and he'd come up with this hand warmer. It was the usual cause of their failure to reach Vegas.

He turned his head and said loudly "your hands will warm up in a few minutes. Sorry, I forgot you didn't have gloves."

Sarah Walker would have gladly had her hands frozen since it meant being able to hold on to Chuck Bartowski so intimately without fear of censure. She clasped her icy hands together under his jacket, reveling in the warmth. Between the intimacy of her grip and the vibrations of the bike, she was turning to a slow, comfortable goo right in her jeans. If he hit a bump she'd be horribly embarrassed. If he hit a pothole, all bets were off.

All too soon he'd pulled back into the entrance to the parking garage. She still held on to him and he unzipped his jacket and allowed her to remove her hands.

"Next time I'll remember to bring the spare helmet and gloves. Good night, Agent Walker." He started the big Harley and drove off into the thinning evening traffic. He had Ellie to deal with.

God damn him! He didn't give her the chance to apologize. He didn't say one word to her about the mission. All he did was be himself. He took care of her. He was safe with her. He didn't show off for her and he didn't think he had anything to prove to her. He just agreed to take her for a ride. Next time? Next time sounded like a promise to her. And she hoped he forgot the gloves. And the t-shirt.

Who was the handler and who was the handled here? She was in so much doo-doo. And she looked forward to the next time. Tomorrow was Tux day. She was definitely looking forward to it.

Chuck pulled up and parked his bike beside Ellie's SUV. He was tired but happy. One bad guy down and no friendly casualties and from the debriefing he got the strong impression no one had expected him to perform as well as he'd done. No. Apparently they'd expected him to turn all girly and scream for the CIA and NSA to come save him from the bad men. Tough. He had an agenda. He would solve his mystery and as he told Casey, he played for keeps, too.

Ellie was drunk again. He went over to the refrigerator and took out a beer and drained it. Then he popped the top and drained that one, too. Devon looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Ellie just sat there and sniffled. Shit, she'd been on a crying jag.

"Chuck, I'm sorry, man, I have a shift. I'd stay but I don't have any time off left. I took it when, well, I don't have any time off. "

"No sweat, Devon, I'll handle it. I always do. I'll have a big box for you to take to your place tomorrow so if you get half an hour free, swing on by. I got to go out and buy a tux tomorrow for the big investor meeting in San Francisco New Year's Eve so if I'm not here, it'll be in my room."

"See you tomorrow. Sorry about leaving but, well, she's been in one of her moods all day I guess. You haven't been here to take the brunt of it so she's pretty pissed, my man. Watch yourself. She's a mean drunk tonight." He handed Chuck the keys to Ellie's SUV. They both shared an understanding look.

After Devon left, Chuck took stock of his sister. She'd been into the tequila and now was apparently moving on to vodka. They didn't usually have this much booze in the house but people brought bottles over after the memorial service and again on Christmas Eve so the Bartowski Bar & Distillery was fully stocked.

Tomorrow the booze would be Devon's to dispose of as he saw fit. Knowing Devon, he'd throw a party.

"Eleanor Faye Bartowski, go take a shower and we'll talk. Not one more word will I say to you until you've taken a shower and washed your hair. Don't come back until it's done. And don't fall asleep in the shower, Ellie. Hauling around my drunken passed out sister got old in high school. It's worse now that you got boobs, Ellie, so cut your little bro some slack and get it done."

She looked at him and just snickered. She remembered how embarrassed her little brother got when she came home drunk as a skunk after a party in high school. Things had improved radically when she was in college and she never got drunk in med school.

"Ok, I'll shower then we'll talk,"

"Wash you hair, too. Smells like puke."

"I said OK, _Dad_."

Chuck stiffened with the insult. His father had been… somewhat more attentive to Ellie until he left abruptly. Any comparison of his father to Chuck was a mortal insult.

"Move your ass, Ellie. I don't have all night. I've got a full day tomorrow."

Twenty minutes later and she still had not appeared. He walked back and noticed that the shower stall door was wet as was the bathroom floor. OK, the shower was done.

He walked back to her room and opened the door. She was passed out, face down, half on the bed and half off. He grabbed her ankles and flipped her legs up on the bed and pulled the coverlet over her. Sometimes his sister disgusted him beyond belief.

Chuck walked to the kitchen and began collecting bottles. Anything unopened was put in the box he mentally labeled "Devon's Box" and anything opened was poured down the sink. Surprisingly, there were more open than not so Devon's party would not be so grand after all. He picked up the box and put it in his room. He took all the empties and dumped them in the dumpster behind the apartment. It took 3 trips.

Casa Bartowski was officially a booze-free zone. Only beer remained and that was only because Ellie hated beer.

He took a shower and went to bed. He was so tired of his sister. When she didn't have a man in her life or when the current relationship had reached its peak and begun to falter she became a bitch and a drunk. More than once he'd asked her to see a counselor but she always refused saying, even before Med school provided her the ready made excuse "I'm a doctor and know what I'm doing", that she knew what she was doing. Poor Devon. And all the others.

That night he dreamed several different times of traveling across the country on his bike. In his dream someone was always behind him, arms tightly wrapped around his waist, hands toying with his stomach muscles using the hand warmer slots. Each time he tried to see who it was she either had her head turned or was wearing a helmet with a tinted visor. At first he believed it was Lynn but in later dreams he knew it wasn't. The problem was he didn't know who it was, just that her touch was like magic.

* * *

**Monday  
December 28**

He awoke at his usual time and noted that Ellie was still asleep. Thank God. He had no desire to start the day off with a drama-filled Ellie crying jag. He knew he should have dealt with it last night but she'd passed out. Tonight, he'd handle it. No booze and she'd be a bit more reasonable. Again he'd bring up the counselor once she got to Baltimore. He doubted Johns Hopkins would appreciate it if they knew their newest bright star was a periodic binger.

He showered quickly. The dreams from the previous night were still there on the fringe of his conscious mind. It was very irritating not knowing who the mystery woman was who'd accompanied him on his cross-country junket.

Sarah Walker called at 9am to remind him that she was picking him up at 10am to handle the tuxedo issues. She told him that the CIA had a special AMEX card in his name for mission-related expenses. She told him there was no limit on the card.

"How big is no limit, Agent Walker?"

"Well, I once chartered a 150' yacht for a month and it covered it as well as a new wardrobe and other items I needed for the mission. So yeah, no limit is fairly descriptive."

She didn't mention that her partner on the mission had been Bryce Larkin. She didn't think it would be productive to mention that fact to Chuck.

"Ok, I'll see you at 10."

Sarah stared at her phone. He must have really had his hands full last night with Ellie. He sounded tired. She noticed his failure to use her first name and the fact that he called her "Agent Walker". It was definitely going to be an interesting day.

Sarah pulled up in front of his apartment complex precisely at 10am. She got out of the car and started towards his apartment when she saw him coming towards her. She smiled her special smile and he nodded to her and opened the door and got in.

She pulled out and headed downtown. She glanced at him several times but either he was looking out the window or down at the floorboards of the car. Sarah noticed that he had yet to say a single word and that his fists were clenched and if the trembling in his jaw muscles was any indication, he was trying successfully to control his anger.

"OK, talk to me. I know something's wrong. Spill it. Sharing is good for you, didn't you learn that in school, Mr. Bartowski?" She said his name with a smile on her face so it wouldn't sound so formal.

"I can't handle Ellie any longer. She is driving me crazy. I've taken all the booze out of the house. I've dumped all the pills down the toilet and I've told her to get counseling. Last night when I got home she was drunk again. Devon had been with her and couldn't control her. He had to go to work and I got stuck with drunken Ellie. She's been doing this since high school."

"I told her to take a shower and we'd talk about Christmas and all the other stuff and warned her not to fall asleep in the shower because I was tired of hauling a soaked naked sister to bed. I was too old for it. In high school it wasn't so bad. But she's matured since then. It's really uncomfortable for me. Anyhow, last night she was passed out on the bed, naked and soaking wet. I just got pissed and threw the covers over her and left."

"She sabotages every relationship she's been in. The thing with Devon is the latest. She didn't even apply for the position in the trials. She just used it as an excuse to dump him because they'd set the date and she couldn't figure out how to escape. She's tried the same crap with every girl I've ever had which is why Jill was kept a deep, dark secret and Lynn was introduced to her only after I'd asked her to move in with me."

"I'll be so damned glad when she goes to Baltimore. I'm so tired of her damned drama. Devon thinks this is a 'transient phase in grieving' but I think she's just being Ellie. She doesn't want to go to J-H, she doesn't want Devon and she sure as hell doesn't want me doing anything remotely independent of her. She's stuck in the cycle she made in high school when we were struggling to survive. Arrrgggggggggg… she really pissed me off."

"Chuck, have you talked to a psychiatrist or a therapist? Sometimes you're just too close to the problem to really see it. You've been handling this for almost 12 years by your self, get some help. It's not your job; you're not the parent. She's a grown woman and responsible for her own actions. I've rerun Christmas in my head a hundred times. I think she was very serious in her concerns for you, not creating a problem. She's worried about you and your grieving and how anyone can tell you're borderline suicidal." She cringed but it had to get out there to be identified and dealt with.

"You think I'm suicidal, Agent Walker?" Chuck just stared at her, taken aback. He'd promised her he wouldn't take his own life but he found that if he twisted it just right, it didn't mean he had to avoid a possibly fatal situation. Was that being suicidal?

"Chuck, let's just stick to Ellie. We can talk about you once you no longer have this burden to deal with. If you can get this Ellie thing resolved maybe life won't look so bleak and hopeless to you. And no, I, personally, don't think you're suicidal. I think you have so much on your plate that you're overwhelmed right now. I think you're just a human being struggling to make it through the day."

"If you want, I can get the Agency to recommend a list of therapists who are certified and also have the security clearance to discuss this problem and if anything about your CIA involvement comes to light it won't pose a security risk. All you have to do is ask, Chuck. You'd be surprised what the government will do to keep you happy and healthy."

"Yeah, that sounds like what we need to start on this. Could you do that for me? Anything at this point would be a blessing. After last night, I was thinking about calling in the guys in the white coats."

Sarah laughed and squeezed his hand. "Consider it done. As soon as we get you all decked out I'll take care of it. Now, we have some serious shopping to do, Mr. Bartowski. Consider this a Chuck make-over day."

"Just don't start singing "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" or I'm out of here, Sarah. This is too much like Night of the Comet for me."

She looked at him, puzzled. "Oh, Sarah, no, don't tell me you never saw Night of the Comet? You're not _that_ old, are you?"

Silence. "Chuck, I'm 43 years old. I'm your mother, Chuck."

Silence. "Mom?"

Silence. "_Ouch_, Jesus, Sarah, what was that for?"

"Do I _look_ 43, Chuck? Do I _act_ like your mother? You idiot." Sarah's laughter filled the car. "Let's go get you dressed, son."

"You know that's going to leave a bruise, don't you, Sarah. I mean a _big_ bruise. And no, you don't look a day over 35."

"Ouch, will you _stop_ that? Isn't there some place in the CIA Handler's Manual about abusing the asset, Agent Walker?"

"Yes, but it only describes the various techniques for abuse. There are no guidelines other than a warning to avoid hospitalization or death if at all possible."

'_OK, so maybe he'll have a bruise or two, but at least he's laughing again. And surely I look younger than 35! I'm only 27.'  
_

* * *

**December 28  
Beverly Hills  
11:30am**

Chuck didn't know how women could amble around a store, touching nearly everything, trying stuff on, go to another store and repeat the process and then arrive home without having purchased a single thing and be worn out from 'shopping'. Must be a girl thing.

* * *

Chuck's idea of shopping would have impressed the most experienced military commander: define what you want, locate store that sells what you want, locate the mall the store is located in, find a map of the mall and determine the exact location of the store within the mall, locate nearest entrance and exits, park as close as possible to the selected entrance, enter mall and locate store, enter store, locate item, try item on, purchase item, exit store, exit mall, enter vehicle and exit parking lot. Total estimated time: 20 minutes.

Sarah's idea of shopping: locate mall. Total estimated time: until bored, hungry or closing time.

* * *

Chuck must have tried on 20 tuxes before one finally met with Sarah's approval. Well, it was government money and she was the on-site representative. Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. That had been quite an ordeal.

"Chuck, we're not done yet. You can't have just one tuxedo, trust me. You'll need at least 2. Eventually, you'll have 4 or 5. Some may need to be replaced due to mission wear and tear, the others just because it's the new season. Try on this Armani; I think it's even nicer than the one I've already selected. Then we'll need shirts, socks, cuff links, gaiters, shoes, oh, yeah, shoes. At least 2 pairs to begin with. We'll add to your wardrobe as time goes by. Shoes are always mission casualties. They get bloody, scraped from scaling a wall, stuff like that."

"Sarah, you're enjoying this way too much. I could have rented 10 tuxes for what that Armani costs. It's ridiculous."

"Chuck, if I wake you at 3am and tell you we have to catch a plane to Monte Carlo in 20 minutes where are you going to find a place to rent a tux? No, we do this my way. I know what I'm doing. You're worse than Bry…I mean…"

"It's ok, Sarah. I've read your file. I know that you and Bryce were partners and more. No need to hide it from me. Your life is your own, you know? No big deal. I'm sure Bryce Larkin is a helluva an agent. I'm happy you have someone, really."

Sarah sighed. She wished she'd kept her damned mouth shut. She could see the disappointment and …jealousy…? _No, he isn't the jealous type and besides he's just lost his wife. No, it's probably a fleeting thought about his past or that bitch Jill. The look on his face didn't look like he was happy that I 'have someone…' though_.

**December 28  
3:45pm  
Beverly Hills**

Chuck was tired. No, beat. No, exhausted. And Sarah Walker looked like she just woke up from a 2-hour nap, energized, happy, all bubbly-girly. Hard to believe this sprightly thing was a trained CIA assassin – maybe _his _assassin.

'Shopping for a tux' had expanded into 'getting you the wardrobe you'll need once the office is open'. More shopping. More clothes to try on. More black AMEX expenditures.

"Sarah, does this have to be done all in one day? Can't we just do this say once a week? Since I have to come back to pick up the tailored tuxes and suits, can't we just pick this up then? Have mercy, Agent Walker."

Sarah laughed. "Chuck, we still have to get you shoes for you daily business wear. The Converse are history except maybe the _occasional_ 'casual Friday'. Sorry, that's life in the grown up world, Chuck. What kind of image would I project if I met our clients wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes and a halter top?"

Chuck's eyes glazed over and he seemed to freeze in place. "Chuck, what's wrong? Is that a flash? Can you hear me?"

"Ummmm, no. I was just imagining you in… never mind. Let's get this over with. And then, Sarah Walker, like it or not I'm going to pick up my bike and head to the beach. I need some 'normal' for a while. You're welcome to join me. But that skirt on the bike might be a little drafty."

She swatted his arm. She really was having a great time and Chuck had been very patient. She would never tell him that most of what he tried on was already perfect for him. She just enjoyed the fashion show. It wasn't professional but it was fun and satisfying. He had no idea how charming he could be and how devastatingly handsome he was in a tux or business suit. Mmmmmmmm, yummy. Ties. Jesus, she'd forgotten ties!

**Casa Bartowski  
6pm**

Sarah helped Chuck carry their various purchases into the apartment. Ellie was gone somewhere so Chuck didn't have to face her inquisition or inevitable faux pas of the mouth.

"How often do you do that, Sarah? I mean just go shopping, not buy an entire wardrobe for an asset?"

"Not as often as I'd like to, Chuck. I really had fun today. Thanks for being so patient. I know you hate shopping, it's a genetic trait." She giggled over that. She knew that Chuck was a planner and her idea of shopping was an unplanned and spontaneous blitz on the mall. Worlds apart.

"I'm going to head back to the hotel, Chuck. I have mountains of paperwork to do and I need to put in the request for the list of therapists for you and Ellie. I'll email it to you or just drop it by the next time I'm here. I'll see you tomorrow I guess. We have a contractors meeting at 10am, don't forget." She walked over and patted his shoulder in sympathy, grinned and left.

"Jesus, this spy crap is murder. I need to check out those fitness programs Lynn was nagging me about."

It took several trips to carry all his 'purchases' back to his room. Once he started hanging things up he realized he'd probably have to find 'other quarters' for his t-shirts, jeans and other wear. He accepted that life in the business world would be a change; he just hadn't counted on it being such a "large" one. He was glad Sarah had been with him. Her expert advice and her opinions were worth gold.

He stripped off his 'shopping duds', threw on jeans and his leather jacket and boots and headed for the bike and the beach. Simple pleasures for easing his mind – provided no bad guys in black sedans emptied their ashtrays in front of him again.

The beach was deserted. It was a blustery day and not many surfing aficionados had braved the cold weather and water for what amounted to baby waves during the day. No one surfed this late at night. Still, the combination of the gulls and the surf brought Chuck a sense of peace and contentment.

Today had been interesting. He found that Sarah Walker was sensitive about her age, still carried a torch for Bryce Larkin and would literally 'shop 'til she dropped'. He felt a little sad that she was still in love with Bryce. He couldn't imagine them together. She had far too much class but then Bryce had charmed the pants off many a wiser woman in his day. He had been a legend among the younger female faculty (meaning 40 and under) and a rumor among the younger faculty wives.

He unconsciously fingered Lynn's rings. 'Oh, babe, I miss you so much and I'm so lonely. Ellie's drifting around the bend again and I only hope Agent Walker's list has someone on it that can help her. I wish you were here. I miss your wisdom and common sense. Be at peace, my love, and wait for me.'

His ride back to the apartment was uneventful and thankfully his sister had been called in to work because of a big pile up on one of L.A.'s famous moving parking lots. ER's were such fun places.

He made himself a sandwich plate of Devon's leftovers and drank a beer. This thing with his sister was getting out of hand. He had to do something. One thing on his list was to tell Devon about his sister's 'history' and let him know he was going to ask her to join a therapy group or something. He didn't know how much good it would do her since she was leaving for Baltimore but it couldn't hurt. Thinking of the devil made him appear.

When he answered the door a disappointed Devon greeted him. "Hey, Chuck, I thought Ellie was off tonight? I wanted to talk to her again."

"She got called into the ER again. Big pile up, lotsa patients and too few doctors. I needed to talk with you about something anyway if you have the time. It's about Ellie and some new developments. I'm getting a list of therapists for her."

"Chuck, she needs some counseling for sure. She got issues I never dreamed about. Plus I think your situation hasn't made her any happier."

"OK, tell you what, you take out these itchy stitches and I'll fill you in on the Ellie thing. Fair trade."

They talked until Devon had to go in for his rotation. It had been productive and Devon agreed with Chuck that the situation had to improve.

He finally crashed on top of his bed at 11:30, too tired to even strip off his clothes. Who knew shopping could be so tiring?

End GreenEyedGirl7


	8. Maim That Host

GreenEyedGirl8

_A/N: A little time compression. You didn't miss anything. Still stuck in Tampa. Hot and sticky and totally po'd at the yard master but I hope to be out of here by Thursday night._

_Sorry for the long chapter 7 but I got carried away and the 3Js just wouldn't let me quit._

_Still no betas. Still don't own Chuck. Still have an insufferably bad attitude._

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
Tampa Bay Anchorage  
25 June 2009  
_

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
****December 31  
****10am**

Sarah rang the bell to Chuck's apartment and waited patiently. She knew Ellie was working the day shift and she wouldn't have to face the "20 Questions" she'd ask. Chuck opened the door and invited her in.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt, silk tie and suit pants. His shoes shined and his suspenders gave him the look of a successful businessman. Overall, he cleaned up nicely. She'd nagged him until he'd finally gotten hair cut.

"Got everything packed, Chuck? It all fit into the one-size-fits-all CIA bag?" She'd bought a multipurpose suit bag for him, something she knew he'd never think of himself.

"Yep, no wrinkles and everything fit. Thanks again for the bag. I don't think Armani was made to travel in a backpack."

"We're catching a government plan at John Wayne in an hour. You all ready?"

"Yeah. Just let me get my suit coat and we're good to go. So tell me again how this thing with Casey is going to work?"

"Casey is already in San Francisco. He's taken care of the rooms and a limo. He'll pose as the limo driver and our security while we're at the party. We'll be in constant communications with him and he'll be recording all our information as we report it. All we have to do is identify the bad guys you flash on and then inform the respective agencies who have an 'interest' in them. If we get the chance, we're to try and place a repeater bug in any computers we come across. Three hours, maximum, then the rest of the evening is our to do with as we please. I've only been to San Francisco a couple of times and never to Sausalito. Should be fun."

"Got it. Let's go. You'll like San Francisco."

Three hours later and they were in a cab on their way to their hotel in San Francisco.

Sarah asked Chuck to check them in while she went to find Casey and make sure of the arrangements. Chuck flashed his black AMEX card and the assistant manager of the Hotel immediately replaced the clerk.

"Ah, Mr. Carmichael, it's an honor to have you as our guest. Your suite is ready and we've included some complimentary amenities to enhance the experience of your stay with us. If you will point out your bags to the Bell Captain he'll take them to your room."

Chuck finished checking in and took the key cards and looked for Sarah. She was standing with Casey near the concierge desk appearing to be making arrangement for the limo that evening.

"Ms. Walker, your room key. I've had the bags taken up to the rooms. Any changes in tonight's agenda?"

"No, Cinderowski, you still get to go to the Ball. No changes in agenda. Just don't screw it up."

"No sweat, John. Sarah, I'll see you upstairs."

"You didn't tell him, did you, Walker?" Casey smirked.

"Tell him what, Casey?" She honestly didn't know what he meant.

"The Nerd said rooms, plural, he doesn't know his cover story very well, does he?"

"Casey, I didn't think it was important enough to bother him with it. He's an amazing, adaptable man and our cover is perfectly legitimate. If people see more into it than it was meant to, that's their problem, don't you think?"

"Whatever. You're not the one who has to listen to him at night. He's usually quiet about it but sometimes he wakes up and calls for her. Dumb ass can't seem to understand she's dead and isn't going to answer."

"Casey, don't be such a damned asshole. He's been through a lot. Cut him some slack. He's not a spy, Casey. He still has human emotions and feelings just like you used to have until the NSA trained them out of you. Who's the better man, Casey? You or him? Don't be late tonight. We have a schedule to keep. And make sure the equipment is up and ready." With a look of disgust, Sarah turned on him and walked over to the elevators. She should have told Chuck. Only one room, Chuck, a suite, but still only one bed. Part of their cover.

Chuck was quick to catch on. Their cover must be that they were more than business partners. Probably much more. He was cool with that. He'd already checked and the couch was as comfortable as it looked. The whole room was on a higher plane than the dumps he usually stayed at. Money must really be no object at the CIA. He took a beer out of the fridge and sat down out on the balcony. San Francisco was cold. Colder than L.A. but at least the damned wind wasn't howling. They had a beautiful view of the bay and Alcatraz Island. A post card view.

Sarah swiped her card and walked in. Nice room. Not as nice as some she'd stayed in but nice. She walked into the bedroom and saw that Chuck had already unpacked his things and that her bags were open waiting for her to unpack. The staff here was very professional. After unpacking it was still only 3pm. Where was her asset?

"Hey, Chuck, it's cold out there. Come in and thaw out." She was surprised to see him sitting on the outdoor couch on the balcony. She glanced and it appeared he was either asleep or just vegging out.

He replied without opening his eyes "Y'know, Casey is a real prick. A prick with ears. He's also stupid. If I wanted to, I could create a feedback loop and just let him listen to the annoying sound of my commode recycling over and over and over again. I was a computer and electrical engineering major at Stanford and completed all but 12 credits. Being expelled did not equate with being stupid. Well, it did. I was stupid to trust."

She reached down and took his beer and finished it. Then she grabbed both his hands and pulled him upright. "Chuck, I should have explained our cover before but I was concerned with your reaction. We're posing as…"

"Lovers. Yeah, I figured that from the looks I got from the assistant manager. By the way, is the back of my pants wet? He spent so much time kissing my ass I was sure his saliva would have soaked the seat."

She laughed and it made her seem very innocent and young. Younger than 27, that he was sure of.

"So, are we OK with this? I know it's awkward and uncomfortable but…"

"Sarah, I'm an adult in an adult situation and I understand what we're doing here. I'm sure Bryce would be equally as upset if he knew I was going to be sharing a bed, naked, with his girlfriend who would also be naked. But he's a pro and I'm sure he'd get over it just like I'll have to. So, no big deal."

Naked? "Chuck, I think you got the wrong idea about …" she was shocked. Not at the idea of a very naked Chuck entangled with an equally naked Sarah, no, it was his insistence that she was still Bryce's girl friend. She rather liked the mental image of them in this bed together, naked.

"Sarah, you're an agent of the Central Intelligence Agency. I can quote your file if you want but I haven't given it more than a cursory glance and don't intend to. You are entitled to your privacy both as Agent Walker and as Sarah Whateveryourrealnamemightbe. Let it go. I think I need to concentrate on the mission. First time jitters, I suppose."

She really wanted him to understand that she and Bryce might have been lovers once but that any feelings she might have for him now were not those of love but rather contempt.

_First time jitters, my ass, Chuck Bartowski. You're cool as a cucumber and just giving me a chance to save face. We'll see. The evening has not even started yet._

Chuck managed to catch a nap. It was unplanned. He was sitting in the chair gazing out over the bay and suddenly Sarah was shaking his shoulder.

"Chuck, wake up. Take a shower and get ready. We're leaving in a little less than 90 minutes, OK?" She couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep! She wanted to talk about things with him and he just zoned out and went to sleep, something a trained agent had trouble doing. What else had they underestimated about Chuck Bartowski?

"Sorry, didn't mean to doze off. Guess all the excitement tired me out. Be with you in a few minutes." He didn't even notice that Sarah was wearing matching blood red bra, panties, garter belt and nylons.

Ten minutes later he was out of the shower and walked into the bedroom towel-drying his hair. Sarah was sitting on the edge of the bed strapping on a holster for her knives high up on the inside of her right thigh. The sound of Velcro caught his attention.

He turned bright red and whirled around and walked quickly into the living area. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to… I mean, I'm sorry. Let me know when it's safe. I'll just take another cold shower." He really didn't intend to take another shower; it was just something to say.

Sarah laughed aloud. "Chuck, get in here. It's all right. I'm wearing more now than I wear at the beach. Get dressed. We don't want to be late."

"Yeah, well, what you wear at the beach is expected, that heart attack was not expected."

She was flattered by his reaction. More than flattered. She was encouraged.

They were ready to go in 20 minutes. Sarah came out of the bathroom wearing a black monk's robe cape with the hood over her head and she carried her usual very small purse. Chuck had wondered how she was going to cope with the cool weather and now he knew. She looked very mysterious.

She walked over to Chuck and put her hands on his shoulders and squared away his tux and retied his bow tie. The she put her hand behind his head and pulled him down and slipped an earbud into his left ear. He already had his cuff mike.

"Now, you look like Charles Carmichael."

They exited the room and took the elevator down to the lobby. Casey was standing at the concierge desk, looking like a limo driver. When he saw them coming he preceded them out the door and stood beside the door and opened it when they appeared. Chuck helped Sarah into the limo and then got in himself.

"Commo check, Casey."

"Carmichael, up"

"Walker, up"

The drive out to Sausalito didn't take long at all. Driving along the harbor Sarah commented on all the festive lights.

"People on houseboats decorate for Christmas and then boats and yachts decorate and they all light up Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. It's nice if it's the first time you've seen it."

Casey just grunted. Sarah smiled and held Chuck's hand noticing the tan line where his wedding ring used to be. 'This one should always have a ring. It's his nature.'

* * *

Sarah took the invitations out of her purse and handed them to Chuck who put them in his inside breast pocket. He checked that his iPhone was on silent/vibrate and glanced at Sarah. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover – Hot Spy Babes. He chuckled to himself and she turned and looked at him. "Nothing, Sarah, just a random thought with no bearing on the mission."

"Keep your head on the mission, Bartowski. Don't screw this up. It's a simple…"

"I know Major Casey, go in, scan and flash, report flash results to you, drop a few bugs and then see if any computers can he spiffed. Simple. Even I can remember the instructions, Major Casey."

Casey grunted or maybe growled. Chuck didn't care. He'd take care of Casey at the proper time. Not now. Sarah needed a successful mission.

The limo pulled up in front of a hideously pink mansion. The balustrade was garishly decorated and the pink of the mansion made Chuck think of Pepto Bismol. Both were nauseating.

He opened his door before Casey could get out and helped Sarah out of the Limo. Her hand was soft and warm but the palm was a bit damp. 'Nerves, Agent Walker?'

They made their way up the steps and Chuck presented their invitations to one of three thugs wearing Jacque Penay tuxes. The jackets were pulled tight over shoulder-holstered weapons. No doubt about it, they were not in Kansas anymore.

They were passed through and met by a flunky who took the invitations from thug #1 and escorted them into the main room. He announced them and a few people looked their way but most were engaged in either deep conversation or deep boredom.

Chuck looked over at Sarah and winked. She pinked up a bit and he laughed. The flunky showed them to the coatroom and Chuck helped her out of her hooded robe. And almost dropped it.

Sarah Walker was wearing a red backless gown that plunged down almost to her fanny but covered her entire chest but somehow seemed more revealing that if she'd been naked. The gown hugged her hips and flowed down around her feet. It was slit up the side to an almost indecent height.

"My God, Sarah, you look beautiful." For Chuck Bartowski to say such a thing while in an obvious daze made Sarah's decade. She smiled her most radiant smile and leaned up and whispered "I took off the underwear, Chuck. It made lines. And I couldn't have that, now, could I?"

Now it was his turn to turn pink, pinker, red, redder… and she laughed her deep sexy laugh and just smiled at him. 'God, he's so cute when he blushes. Maybe I should have saved that line until we were back in the limo.'

A man of Middle Eastern descent who introduced himself as their host interrupted them.

Chuck flashed on him immediately. Samir Benoudiz, 44, Lebanese ex-pat, ties to Shining Path, Tupomaris, Arab Brotherhood and a major recipient of pilfered Russian arms from the Chechen campaign. Active in Bosnia, Croatia and Albania. Interpol warrants dismissed.

While he shook Chuck's hand his eyes never strayed far from Sarah's breasts. Chuck finally had enough and squeezed the man's hand, forcing knuckle against knuckle. The sudden increase in pressure caused a look of alarm on the man and Sarah immediately put her arm through Chuck's and made their apologies and excused themselves.

"Shit, what were you thinking? You don't maim the host. So what if he was looking at my boobs, that's why I wore this. It's a distraction."

Chuck spoke into his cuff mike and recounted the flash on Benoudiz.

"Sarah, you are not a piece of meat. Women with me are not meat. I do not date meat. Understand? If you want to play bubble-headed eye candy that's fine but do not disrespect me as 'Charles Carmichael'. It would not be his style. Understand?"

He was right. "Sorry, Chuck. You're right. Just don't maim the guests."

He flashed and reported several more times and they'd both had two champagne cocktails when the band played the tango. "Care to dance, Ms. Walker?"

For once in his life, Chuck thanked Ellie for insisting on ballroom dance lessons. They'd been free and had been the last thing Chuck wanted to do on a Saturday afternoon but she'd insisted and, of course, won.

Sarah was quite amazed and taken aback by his dancing. He was almost perfect. His only flaw was eye contact. He didn't. He totally ignored her as they danced. It was like she was his attachment to use as he pleased to express himself. This made her angry and she tried to get his attention using the only thing at hand, her body.

As she stalked her prey and he in turn ignored her, people began to leave the dance floor to watch. This was something rarely seen. The Tango as it was meant to be danced.

The dance was in its final phase and he struck without warning or mercy. If Sarah Walker wished to hunt then she'd better be prepared to be hunted. He caught her eyes and held them, running his hands down her body and pulling her close to him, molding her to him. He saw her pupils dilate as she realized she'd been outfoxed and the hunter was now the prey. Slowly, almost uncaring he brought his lips to hers as the dance ended.

The applause was thunderous and Sarah Walker hung limply for just a second or two before he pulled her upright and smiled. "Thanks to the L.A. Performing Arts for providing free dance lessons to the underprivileged. Did Bryce ever tell you who taught him to Tango?" He laughed at the look on her face and the almost vacant stare to her eyes. He knew what was going on. He could sense her arousal. Her scent.

They made their way through the crowd, many of whom wanted to talk but the couple ignored them and found an exit to a patio to cool down and catch their breath.

She still had not uttered a word.

"Sarah, are you alright? Sarah?"

"If you ever do that to me again, I'll kill you, Charles Bartowski." He just looked at her and smiled. It was chilly and she was cooling down rapidly. He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders and embraced her. Whispering in her ear, his lips almost grazing it, he said, "Now we're even for the underwear line, Sarah. Don't play with fire, Agent Walker. You might get burned. Now, let's go find us some more bad guys."

Within the next hour Chuck had flashed on at least a dozen more criminals, most with US or Interpol warrants.

Believing that the mission was almost over, Sarah suggested they use their cover and scout around for a computer workstation. Chuck agreed and they found themselves in what were obviously the personal quarters of the host, Mr. Benoudiz. His study door was open and there was a computer workstation on his desk.

"Sarah, watch the hallway. I think this might be our objective." He reached around behind the unit and unhooked the DSL phone line, removed a small phone jack-like device and inserted it into the computer and the DSL phone line jack into it. Mission accomplished.

"OK, we're done here. Let's say good night to our host and get the hell out of here."

They made sure nothing would tip off Benoudiz that someone had been fooling around with his computer and walked out into the corridor. They turned back to the main ballroom and were almost to their goal when they heard several voices speaking in Arabic coming down the corridor. Chuck froze. There was no place to hide, no windows to jump out, they were screwed.

Sarah grabbed him in a frantic embrace, leaned back against the wall and began kissing him. Chuck was shocked at first but realized what she was going to do and did his part. He reached around and grabbed her and slid a hand through the slit in her gown and up her inner thigh, fingers trailing lines of fire on her skin and she moaned - until he felt the holster with her knives. Fumbling around until he found the knives, he removed one and passed it to her. He removed a second one and did the same. He broke off their kiss and whispered, "I don't even want to know where you've hidden your pistol, Sarah. Some things are best left to the imagination."

She couldn't help it. She started to laugh and she just hugged him tighter while he nibbled at her ear and neck. The men walking down the corridor heard the sexy laugh and easily recognized the sex-crazed Tango dancers, laughed and passed them by. When their voices had faded Chuck tried to disengage himself from Sarah but she seemed intent on not letting him go. Finally she relinquished her hold on him and looked at him for the first time.

"Chuck, please, I know you're, aw, hell, I'm sorry. I had no choice. It was the first thing I could…"

Chuck put his fingers to her lips. "Shhh, quick thinking. I enjoy your thought processes, Sarah Walker, but next time, let's just cut to the chase and get a room."

She stared at him. 'What the hell…' Then he started to laugh and she had no choice but to join him. "Next time you dance the Tango with me, Chuck Bartowski, you'd better be serious. I'm embarrassed as hell. You sure do know how to work a girl up. I think your spy name should be 'Agent Tease'. Much more appropriate. Now, let's get the hell out of here while I can still walk."

They walked out into the ballroom just as the bandleader counted down the seconds until midnight. "3…2…1…Happy New Year!" Sarah turned, smiled, and drew him down for a sweet and gentle kiss. "Happy New Year, Chuck. This year will be better, I promise. And this time next year, well, just wait and see."

A frown crossed his face. A year. He'd never make it a year. He'd never be able to resist the siren call of this beautiful complicated woman unless she was called upon by her duty to kill him. The irony of the situation drove the frown away and replaced it with an honest grin. His Lynn must be laughing her ass off at him right now. She had always enjoyed her 'Chuck in the throes of a moral dilemma' moments. But she'd always trusted that he'd do the right thing and he knew he would. He just didn't have a clue what the right thing was anymore.

**January 1  
****San Francisco  
****3am**

The drive back to the hotel was mostly in silence except for 20 minutes or so that Casey debriefed the team and the time they had to pull over and allow several police vehicles in convoy with others pass them by. Someone was going to have a crappy New Year and Casey just laughed at Chuck's remark. That was a first.

If the report was to be believed, the team had identified the leader of one major terrorist cell, 1 Iranian diplomat who could not be touched, 3 senior members of a Chinese/Malaysian sex slave cartel, 4 'war criminals' wanted on Interpol warrants, 2 BOLOs and a scattering of minor players in the drug trade. DEA would have a field day with the leads they would provide. The real haul was the on-going intelligence gleaned from Sami Benoudiz' computer.

Chuck had also flashed on an American intelligence agent, Walter Abney, who had been carried on the CIA roles as 'missing presumed dead' but who was, in fact, the regional coordinator of Fulcrum for the Southwest United States. This brought the only immediate reaction from Casey while they were still at the party.

"That traitorous bastard needs to be shot. He's been responsible for the deaths of many DEA, Customs and Border Patrol agents. He funds his filthy organization with drug money. I'd love to be in charge of his interrogation."

Nether Chuck or Sarah had much to say outside of the purely mission-related facts and actions. The real debriefing would be held in their suite at 7am with Beckman and Graham and possibly some representatives of other enforcement agencies. Chuck didn't know and didn't care. He was suddenly very tired and was being lulled into sleep by the hypnotic passing of car lights in the other lanes of traffic. Only 351 days remained on his countdown calendar.

Sarah glanced over at her companion. She could do little else with Casey driving and probably monitoring everything for posterity. Her asset had rendered an amazing performance and the mission was a tremendous success. Her problem was her undeniable attraction to her asset. He was incredibly sex and she found that a surprise since she'd catalogued him on first meeting as 'not her type'. The Tango had stirred emotions in her she'd not felt for a long while, not since the initial heady days of her partnership with Bryce Larkin.

He was a bag of mixed signals. Cute and vulnerable when he'd seen her in her underwear at the hotel, awed when she'd removed her cloak in the coatroom, possessive and protective when that slug had been mentally undressing her and then sexually predatory during the Tango. When they were kissing trying to distract the Arabs in the mansion and he'd slipped his hand up her thigh she almost lost it. When his fingers traced a fiery pattern on her inner thigh she was sure she would climax and when he passed her the knives she'd been utterly devastated. Was any of it real? Well, if the bulge in his pants was any indication, yes. But was it pure biology? She didn't know.

Her kiss at midnight had been real. His response had been real. The frown then the smile and the laugh, that had been pure Chuck Bartowski.

She was so confused. Red light. Green light. Stop, go, wait, hurry, yes, no, maybe. She wanted this man emotionally, she needed what he provided. Simple fulfillment. Being with him was an incredible experience. Being away from him made her feel weak and vulnerable. What was wrong with her? She'd handled assets before. Even women. She'd never felt this unfocused and confused. She needed to get her head in the game before someone got hurt.

End GreenEyedGirl8


	9. Leases n Flashes n Slashes n Leashes

_GreenEyedGirl9_

_A/N Don't own Chuck, but do own my insufferably bad attitude. Running in 10-12 kt winds in 2-3ft seas. Doesn't sound like much but I only have 4ft of freeboard. Everything is wet and I wouldn't have it any other way._

_One of the 4 or 5 who've actually read the story commented on the father's attentiveness, I have no intention of exploring it other than as it will come out in therapy(?), no salacious flashbacks. Also, yeah, Chuck was underage so how did he escape the do-gooders? And lastly, __**NickyR,**__ the temperature is going to get hotter…but not "m" sadly. Ellie's a drunk because that's what bled from my fingers. She's always got wine in her hand on the show so I just extrapolated a wee bit. I lurve Sarah Lancaster but that's a whole 'nother thing._

_And as for Chuck's apparent 'over the top' self-confidence, have you ever met a rich person who wasn't self-confident? And Chuck's got lotsa loot. I think I'm being influenced by a comment I heard in a bar "Life's like a crap sandwich, the more bread you got, the less crap you eat." Of course, he didn't say 'crap' he said…_

_Want Charah? Pay the piper. Bwahaha…Can you say Kimberly Montoya?_

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
Gulf of Mexico  
26 June 2009  


* * *

_**Drake Hotel****  
San Francisco, CA  
January 1 3:00am**

The limo pulled up to the front of the hotel and Chuck helped Sarah out of the vehicle. He put his arm around her as an additional buffer to the chill wind blowing down the street.

He nodded to Casey and led her into the hotel. She hadn't said much not mission-related on the trip back. Neither had he. He supposed that was procedure since the major briefing was being held at 7am with the General and Director and assorted flunkies in attendance.

He pushed the button for the elevator and waited what seemed a lifetime. He glanced at her profile and noticed what looked like a tear hanging from one eyelash. When the car arrived they both walked in and turned to face the door, a habit Chuck always found amusing.

He glanced at her again and saw that the tear had lost the battle to the forces of gravity and was winding its way down her cheek. He didn't say anything, concerned that whatever he said would be the wrong thing. He wasn't good in these situations and had a habit of apologizing for things that weren't his fault.

They walked down the hall to their suite and Chuck swiped the card and held the door for her. She walked in and dropped the hooded cape in a bundle on the floor and walked into the bathroom.

'_Uh oh, I've screwed up something someplace. This is not the Sarah Walker I've come to know. This Sarah Walker is closed off and distant. I wonder what it was I did that pissed her off? Or was this after-mission Sarah Walker?'_

Knowing that whatever it was would be thrown in his face any minute he went to the bar and found a beer in the minifridge below the bar counter. He popped the top and took a long drink. He shuddered. Imported crap. He drank the rest of the pony bottle and squatted down to see what other chicken piss the management thought was decent beer.

Sarah walked out of the bathroom wearing a short robe. She carried her gown over her arm and went to the closet and hung it up. She was about 10 seconds from an emotional meltdown and had no idea why. The mission was flawless, Chuck's performance had been flawless, and the results would speak for themselves. This was victory #2 for Team Intersect. So why was she going to cry? Why was she so sad? Was it because she saw something she wanted and couldn't have? Was it because she realized just how empty and alone she was? And where was Chuck?

She walked into the living room. No Chuck. She check the bathroom, maybe he'd ducked in there. No Chuck. She opened the balcony door and looked to see if he was in his usual place. No Chuck.

The object of her search found nothing worthy of his palate and decided to hop in the shower once Sarah was done. He was over his drowsiness and hoped a hot shower would relax tense muscles and bring on a restful albeit brief sleep. He wandered into the bedroom and saw Sarah standing at the open door to the balcony.

"You'll freeze to death out there dressed like that, Sarah. Come in out of the cold. Please. I know you're sad and I'm sorry I didn't figure it out earlier. I'm sorry you're stuck with me, Sarah, and not him. I know you miss Bryce but at least he's still alive someplace."

Her frustration and longing and her desire for this man all coalesced into the one emotion she was free to display.

She whirled on him, fire in her eyes, not realizing that he was much closer than he sounded. She spun around right into his arms and was momentarily shocked but recovered quickly enough. She looked up at him and fired her opening salvo.

"You stupid little man. You flashed on something in the intersect and believe it's an immutable fact. Well, here's a flash for _you_, Mr. Intersect. I hate Bryce Larkin. I have for some time now. He's been _replaced_ and your precious Intersect doesn't know about it. And yes, I miss him. I miss him more and more everyday. I love him more and more every single day. And I haven't told him that I love him. He doesn't know. And he won't know. He _can't _know. So excuse me if I'm a little down. But you're wrong, Mr. Intersect, it's not Bryce Larkin I miss and love."

'_It's you, you big dolt. I don't know how but you've slipped beneath the radar and little by little imbedded yourself in my heart. I can't tell you and I can't show you. I'd be gone in less than an hour and you'd have a new handler, someone who wasn't vulnerable to those eyes and that smile and your gentle ways.'_

"I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same, Mr. Intersect. We have an early briefing and we need to be at the top of our game."

She turned and dropped her robe revealing not a naked Sarah but one wearing a pair of boxers and one of Chuck's missing t-shirts. She slipped into bed, turned her back toward the center and turned off her light leaving Chuck in the dark, both literally and figuratively.

_'Well, I didn't see that one coming. An interesting flaw in the logic of relying on the Intersect. Times change and so do people.'_

He removed his tux and accoutrements and placed all in the CIA bag (as good a name as any other) and headed into the shower. In the dark he couldn't see his handler roll over and look at him with desperate longing and a tear-streaked face.

When he came out he pulled out some sleep pants and a t-shirt and took an extra blanket from the shelf in the closet. He looked over at the bed he'd felt so uncomfortable about sharing when he first realized there was only one bed. Well, that problem had been solved, hadn't it?

There was no way he was getting into a bed with a pissed-off CIA agent with an obvious case of 'I despise Bartowski'. He'd sleep better on the couch or out on the balcony.

Actually, he didn't sleep any better. He didn't sleep at all. The couch was as comfortable as he'd anticipated but sleep would not come to him. He was physically and emotionally tired but could not sleep.

It bothered him that he'd hurt Sarah unwittingly but he knew that she'd chosen the life she led with all its minefields, traps and dead ends. He would not make amends. It wasn't necessary. He didn't matter. He was, to her, just a stupid little man.

He ran over the events of the past 7 hours and could find no instance where he'd done anything that might be construed as either unprofessional or insulting. The touching and kissing had been mission necessities and the sweet midnight kiss had probably been one of longing for her true love. It could also be seen as a mission necessity to maintain their 'cover'. He was just the available surrogate, the stupid little man.

His logic was underwritten by her behavior in the limo on the way back. Distant, both physically and emotionally, shut off, inaccessible and not needing anything from Chuck Bartowski but silence and distance.

Well, obviously the 'siren call' of Sarah Walker was an agent device to control her asset when needed. He didn't need controlled. He needed only direction and objective. He'd make the rest up as he went. He had no concern for consequences so long as they only affected him.

Why were all the women in his life suddenly nuts?

* * *

**Hotel Drake  
San Francisco, CA  
6am**

Chuck stood by Sarah's side of the bed. "Sarah, it's six and our briefing is at 7. I've ordered a light breakfast and coffee for you. I'll be back in a bit after you've showered and dressed."

He walked into the living room and folded the blanket he used on the couch. He hadn't slept at all and was feeling the effects of sleep and food deprivation. It had been more than 24 hours since he'd eaten and longer since he slept. He needed something in his stomach and fresh air.

Chuck took the elevator down to the lobby and walked over to the coffee bar and grabbed a large cup and walked out the lobby door. The sun was well over the horizon but the buildings created near dark blocks and the wind from the Bay carried the scent of the sea plus the miasma of any city: sewage, pollution and rot.

John Casey had pulled his rental into the hotel parking garage and walked in just as Chuck walked out. Chuck was off in la-la land and Casey realized he could have walked up behind him and shoved him out into traffic if this were a normal day and no one would have noticed anything except another dead body.

Every time the human intersect zinged him with one of his one-liners he made up a new death scenario for him. He was really looking forward to taking out this smart-assed piece of crap. The new intersect was only weeks away. He was very patient.

He wondered why the idiot wasn't up in his room getting his rocks off with his handler. That was her job. Keep the intersect happy and productive. He had no quarrel with her performance. If anything, he felt she was a little too controlled. He knew she, too, was counting the days and hoping that it would be her and not Casey who got to kill Bartowski. If Casey was bothered by occasional contact, poor Agent Walker must be ready to kill him at a moment's notice.

Sarah Walker showered, dressed and picked at the light fruit breakfast Chuck had ordered for her. She didn't see any other breakfast debris so she assumed he'd skipped breakfast.

She didn't know where he was and that disturbed her. She needed to know the location of her asset at all times.

Someone knocked at the door and she looked through the peephole and saw it was Casey. Letting him in, she returned to pick at her breakfast.

"There's coffee in the carafe and you're welcome to share this. I'm really not that hungry."

"Yeah, if I had to spend the night entertaining our asset I wouldn't be able to stomach food for a while either. He's drinking coffee and wandering around in front of the hotel. He looks like shit. You must have wrung him out last night. Good. He'll be quiet on the plane. I look forward to popping him when the new intersect is on-line, unless you get the nod. I wouldn't blame you for wanting to end him after having him all over you. You have the patience of Job, Agent Walker. The things we do for the greater good."

Sarah almost choked on her coffee. 'New intersect? …end him?'

"So when's the new intersect coming on line? I'm not in the loop apparently." She had to know more. She would ask Graham directly if it was necessary but preferred less direct methods.

"Within a month, six weeks, tops. I told Beckman she should let me have _another_ crack at him but she vetoed it until they were sure the new intersect functioned properly. In the mean time we're to molly coddle him and use him to get whatever we can out of the intersect."

'…another crack at him…? What the hell was going on here? She definitely needed to talk to Graham – unless he was party to all this? Another damned dilemma.'

* * *

Chuck walked around the block letting the air clear his head as he focused his thoughts on the upcoming briefing and a host of other things. He checked his watch and saw it was time to head back for the briefing. He hoped the plane back to Burbank was leaving immediately after the meeting. He did not wish to inflict himself on his handler one second more than was necessary. Stupid little man, indeed.

He got to the room just as the briefing was about to begin. He sat behind the two agents huddled around Casey's laptop.

The briefing began precisely at 7am. Beckman took the lead and ran down the accomplishments of the evening. She was pleased and could find nothing to fault the team's performance. Director Graham looked tired and distracted and just nodded at the appropriate times. Twenty minutes later it was over and Casey announced that he would be ready to take them to the airport at 9 for the flight back to Burbank.

Sarah's phone rang and she walked out onto the balcony to take the call.

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. Jenn, please come home. Your Aunt Cathy is in the hospital and it doesn't look good. She'd like to see you one last time. Please, if only for a couple of days. It would mean the world to her and to me. She doesn't have much time left."

"Of course. I'll be on the first available commercial flight out of L.A. within a couple of hours of our arrival in Burbank. You should have told me, Uncle Art. You shouldn't have waited. I'd have been home for Christmas. I could have had all that time with her. Damn this job. You let me stay here and do my job while she was dying and now you're going to kill Chuck Bartowski just because he's going to become an inconvenience when your new intersect is on-line. You already tried once and failed. You killed his wife instead. How could y…" and she broke into sobs unable to continue. She hung up the phone and stood on the balcony looking out at the city.

When she felt able, she went back into the suite and told Casey and Chuck she would be leaving for Washington due to a family emergency that required her attention and she didn't know if or when she'd be back. She looked pointedly at Casey and he interpreted it as her saying 'do your job so I don't have to return'.

Chuck simply looked at her, saw her distress and said nothing, believing that nothing he could say would make her misery any less.

Chuck slept the entire flight back to Burbank and then had Casey drop him off at his apartment rather than delay Sarah's arrangements and trip back east.

* * *

He unlocked the apartment and saw that once again he was alone. He unpacked and changed clothes and took the bike out to the beach. He was home.

That night he and Ellie had a long talk. As expected, she denied any problems, accused him of trying to destroy her reputation in the medical community and pointed out that Sarah Walker had obviously had enough of him too and left for greener pastures. The conversation ended with 'Chuck, I hate your fucking guts' and promises to ignore his existence in the future. Devon had come over to take Ellie to dinner and caught the last few sentences.

While Ellie was dressing, Chuck reminded Devon of the bottle box in his bedroom and offered to carry it out to his car. Devon said he'd get it later and Chuck figured he didn't want Ellie to know he was the proud possessor of all her booze.

It had been a long and stressful day and he finally called it a night. He didn't hear Ellie come home and wouldn't have cared if he did. The last bridge had been burned.

* * *

**Reagan International  
11:40pm  
Arrivals**

Director Arthur Graham gathered his foster daughter into a bone-crushing embrace. All the fear and frustration of the past few days hung around him like an aura.

"Can we go directly to the hospital? I want to see Aunt Cathy."

"No, the doctors won't permit it. They won't even let me in after 9pm. She needs her rest and you'd really be tiring her out unnecessarily. I know how you two would talk all night and she can't spare the energy. Tomorrow morning, Jenn, I promise."

"Now, what's this about killing Bartowski? No one authorized any sanction against your young man, now or in the past. What's your information source? And how do you know about the new intersect? Do we have a security breach?"

She told him everything Casey had said and he took notes and made noises and strangling sounds before putting down his pen and looking at her.

"This sounds like one of Beckman's operations. She's after money and power for her agency. She doesn't believe much in humint, trusting instead to satellites and eavesdropping. Casey's her pet dog. He cleans up messes for her. Doesn't much care about any fallout. He knows Beckman will cover his ass. Without proof of any involvement I can't go to the NSC with a supposition. Jenn, I think your boy's going to have to fend for himself."

"Please, don't call me Jenn. She's in the past. I have a future now and I want my 'boy' as you term him, to be part of it. He's like no one I've ever met and you expect me to sit around knowing that some rabid son of a bitch is just waiting to kill him?"

"Take some time with your Aunt Cathy and I'll see what I can do. The intersect is still 6 weeks away and those computer idiots are always telling us they need more time. Just understand there only so much I can do. From what you say, I don't think he would do well in a high security environment."

"You mean in one of your off-the-books holes in the ground, don't you? I'd rather see him dead than buried alive for the rest of his life. He didn't ask for this. He hasn't asked for anything except the chance to live his life. He's performed above expectations and he has a sense of right that I find sorely lacking in our business. And I suspect that son of a bitch Casey had something to do with his wife's death. He did say 'again'."

"I'll do what I can, Sarah. And I'll give you warning if a sanction is approved. After that, you're on your own. Get your ducks in a row, Sarah, if you're even thinking about taking him off the grid. You'll have an advantage, just not much of one."

"I'll take anything I can get. I will not lose this man, Uncle Art."

* * *

**Burbank, CA  
January 5****  
2pm**

John Casey hated the fact that he had to take Chuck Bartowski on a mission. General Beckman's group had traced the Fulcrum regional coordinator, Walter Abney, to his office by the simple expedient of tagging his vehicle with a GPS transponder. Beckman had instructed Casey to take Bartowski to the office complex and let him 'roam around and see if he flashed on anyone.' Casey would stay in the suburban and the asset would report any flashes by wrist mike and transmit real time images via a camera in his suit lapel.

Casey picked Chuck up and briefed him again in detail about mission objectives, abort codes and fall back locations and pick-up points. He was tempted to offer him a weapon but Chuck pointed out that he'd never fired one and would probably shoot himself in the foot thereby earning Casey black mark's in Beckman's grade book. Casey resolved, against his better judgment, to take the asset and train him in basic firearms safety and handling. It might be Casey's ass Chuck saved some day.

Chuck had brought along a briefcase with forms, charts and graphs relating to his new start up. If anyone stopped him, he would use the true facts surrounding his company and say he was looking for office space. If anyone checked it would be a valid reason.

The first office visit was a bust. Chuck went up to the security desk and asked to meet with the facilities manager about possible office space but she was unavailable. He'd walked around the exterior of the complex and noted several high gain antennae on the roof as well as several satellite dishes for transmitting and receiving data streams, not HBO. Casey grunted in approval. He would not have noticed those. Score one for the geek.

He walked around the rear of the office facility and saw several people loafing around a loading dock, taking a smoke break. They couldn't smoke inside the facility. Chuck went up to one very attractive brunette and introduced himself and said he was curious about office space and the girl opened up to him like he was the American Idol.

There were only 2 companies in the entire complex, one a subsidiary of the other. The main company processed insurance claims for medical professionals and institutions. The subsidiary organized training and instruction for American and foreign companies in similar market sectors. They were paranoid about security and required photo ID's on all employees as well as limiting access via encoded swipe cards.

'Bingo. Probably a data node for interstate and international data transmission. That explained the antennae and dishes.'

Chuck followed the talkative young woman back into the facility and got her phone number and address and promised to call her later in the week about a possible dinner date. Casey grunted in approval again. Not bad. He left her at her office door and went down a service corridor to a secured entryway. He looked at the keypad and then pulled out a small penknife and popped the cover. He fiddled with some wires and then pushed a series of random buttons and the red light turned green.

On the right side of the corridor was a badge rack with some color-coded badges. Apparently, these allowed access to specific areas and barred the wearer from others.

Taking one of each color, Chuck waltzed down the corridor like he belonged there.

He glanced at one open office door with the name "Donald Hebert" on a nameplate and seeing no one inside, walked in and scanned the documents on the desk. No flashes and the material dealt with shipping manifests. He left the office and continued down the corridor.

A young woman stopped him and asked for his ID or visitor's pass and Chuck produced one the same color as the young woman's and asked her for help finding Mr. Hebert's office. He told her he'd been wandering around like an idiot for the last 10 minutes because he messed up the security guard's directions. Should have written them down. She smiled and led him back the way he came. He thanked her for her help and told her he'd just wait for Mr. Hebert. She told him her name and that she got off shift in 45 minutes and if he needed a guide 'to freedom' she'd be happy to comply. He got her name, cell number and promised to call her when he and 'Don' were done.

He waited until she went into an office and then walked briskly down the corridor and turned into an unadorned computer room. He looked at the first screen and flashed. A gila monster. Ship manifests. Chemicals. Biological reagents. Typhus, Ebola and anthrax. He popped a repeater bug on the keyboards of several machines and was looking to see what other mischief he could get into when Casey spoke in his ear.

"Bartowski, that's enough. Get out of there before someone questions you. Retrace your path and I'll meet you at the loading dock. 5 minutes."

"On my way. We may have a biohazard problem in the making. I'll debrief when I'm out of here."

Just then a man stepped out of an office without looking and ran into Chuck. His file folder and coffee went every which way. Chuck helped him pick up his paper work and flashed on a manifest from Malaysia containing all the ingredients for incendiary devices, including timers, and primers.

As he stood up, he noticed the name on the ID badge, Don Hebert.

"Mr. Hebert, I've been wandering around here looking for your office. I got turned around back there some place. I'm Charles Carmichael and I'm interested in leasing some office space here and they said you're the man to talk to." Chuck had slipped a few pages of the manifest into his inside suit coat pocket while Hebert had been fussing with his spilled coffee.

"That's ridiculous, Mr. Carmichael. I'm in shipping and receiving. You want the 3rd floor. Go down this hall to the bank of elevators and see the receptionist. I'm sorry you've wasted your time looking for me."

Chuck thanked him and turned and followed the directed path. He used his cuff mike to tell Casey of the change in plans and to meet him at the main entrance. It seemed to take forever and he was sure at any moment alarms would sound but he finally made it out the main entrance and got in the Suburban.

"Good thinking, Bartowski. But how are we going to know how they're bringing it in and where? Cool moves on those bitches. Dumb broads always looking for a Sugar Daddy."

Chuck cringed at the slurs but ignored them. He needed Casey now.

"Here are a couple pages of the shipping manifest. I don't know how to read them. Do you?"

"Yeah. Good work. We have the location, arrival time and ship name and berth. We'll have a team waiting when these terrorists dock. Man, Beckman will really be on top now. Taking out a terrorist cell, identifying the locations of a Fulcrum cover operation, getting staff names and telephone numbers. Excellent."

"Y'know, we did the work. We should be there and watch those bastards get theirs. What do you say?"

Casey looked over at Chuck. He had a determined look on his face and a glint in his eyes that Casey recognized from his mirror.

"I'll see if Beckman will OK you being out there. I don't have a problem with it but Beckman might. You're right. We should see them get theirs. Maybe watch an interrogation. That'll be an education, Bartowski."

"Good. We should just sink the damned ship at sea and not risk that crap getting onto US soil." He looked over at Casey playing to his vanity. "After 9-11 a lot of us changed our attitudes. Why pay for prisons, trials, and risk retaliation. Accidents at sea happen all the time…" And he laughed a hard barking laugh.

"Bartowski, I like the way you think. You're not all bad for a California geek."

Chuck just smiled.

Casey had been right. Beckman could hardly contain her enthusiasm for the team's coup. She was effusive in her praise of 'Mr. Bartowski' especially after Casey mentioned the data nodes and the shipping manifests. He asked if he and Chuck could 'observe the take down' but she refused permission. "Mr. Bartowski is proving to be invaluable. We do not want to risk his safety. Permission denied. I know you want to see your efforts come to fruition but there'll be other chances. Another victory for team intersect."

"Damn, Casey, that sucks."

"Orders, Chuck. Orders."

Progress. Geek to Bartowski to Chuck. Only one more thing to do and then all would be ready.

* * *

Sarah Walker had just spent another day with her Aunt Cathy, more of a mother than an aunt. She'd taken her in as a foster child and treated her no differently than she would one of her own. They were childless and always fostered girls when possible. The race difference was never an issue.

Arthur Graham had kept her in the loop regarding her team. Another successful mission with Casey actually praising the Intersect to Beckman. Would wonders never cease? The team was now 3 for 3 and Chuck Bartowski had proven to be very innovative and quick on his feet. Intercepting that shipment of biological agents was a major coup for Customs and the Team. She was proud of him and she missed him.

* * *

**Offices of CyberLogicals llc  
January 9  
2pm**

Chuck was going over the final arrangement for office furniture and had just approved the telephone system. He wondered about physical security. Curious, he called John Casey.

"Hey, Casey, has anyone thought to involve you in planning the physical security for the office? I know the Castle facility will be secure but what about the offices above the Castle? Why allow someone to know about the Castle? "

"No, why? Problems? That's a good point about the Castle."

"Not that I can see but you're the expert and I figure if you can break into this office we need better security. Want to make the security idiots look bad? Break in here tonight and embarrass them? You up to the challenge of taking a laptop off my desk and leaving a smart-assed note for the security dudes?"

"That's a good idea. Just lock up as usual and set the usual security levels and we'll see what I can do. If I do get in and out, I'll want to take those idiots to task for sloppy work. I'll let your know later how it went."

"Thanks, Major. I knew you wouldn't pass up the challenge." A little flattery was Casey's weakness.

"See you later."

Chuck was tired. He still had several things to do and he hadn't touched his BugOut Tasks listing. He kept surfing the net and adding things he wouldn't have thought of in a million years. The list was becoming a monster with a life of its own. He vowed to pare at least 5 items from the list tonight.

He left the office at 5pm and fought the traffic until he was almost to the apartment. He caught sight of a midnight blue Porsche but it was a newer model than Sarah Walker drove. He'd pretty much given up ever seeing her again.

Ellie was out with Devon. He was trying to get Ellie into counseling and she was trying to get Devon into bed – again - but he was having no part of it. If she wanted the Woodcomb in her bed she had to agree to counseling. So far, no joy. She was leaving on the 11th, driving back east to Baltimore. She had made arrangements for the furniture to be delivered once she got a place. Another thing he had to look forward to, refurnishing his living room and dining area. The stuff was going east, just not scheduled yet.

He looked in the refrigerator for something to make into supper but it was practically bare. Since their falling out, she'd quit doing anything around the house that would favorably impact her brother, like food. Well, she'd be in Baltimore in 5 days and then it wouldn't be his problem any longer.

Starving, he decided to head over to the BuyMore Plaza and get one of Lou's famous subs. He'd always like her and she had been very supportive of him after Lynn's passing. He meant to stop by sooner but one thing or another always got in the way. He liked her and felt comfortable talking with her.

* * *

It was raining. A cold winter rain. He parked in the closest slot he could manage and sprinted into the store. He took off his helmet and immediately felt the hostile stares of about half the patrons. Some people automatically assumed you were a low-life brain-damaged druggie if you rode a bike. Well, screw them.

"Hey, look what the cat dragged in! How's the new company coming along, Chuck? Hired any employees yet?" Lou had seen the looks on several faces and knew Chuck did not meet their expectations of biker trash. She thought to have some fun at their expense.

"No, Lou, just getting the renovations finished. Got the phones, the satellite dish and the matter transporter installed. We'll be ready for the first intergalactic visitor on the 15th. People have already paid for reservations to Alpha Centauri 3 so we're already making money."

Lou came out from behind the counter and gave her favorite nerd a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. She really like this tall and gangly guy and felt something like sadness when he'd married and real sadness when his wife had been killed. She always had a soft and warm spot for him. She knew it was too soon but she wanted to start leaving hints that she was still available. She felt they had a real chance at a relationship.

"You want the usual?"

"Yep. But make it to go, please. I have a lot to do and I'll just munch as I work."

When she handed him his change and plastic-wrapped sandwich she took his hand in hers and looked up at him and said softly "Chuck, when you're ready, remember I'm still here, OK?"

Chuck just nodded. He had a hard time dealing with people who'd known the both of them. Too many 'remember when' coincidences.

* * *

**Offices of CyberLogicals llc  
January 10  
8 am**

Chuck unlocked the front door and entered the lobby area. He had painters scheduled in later in the day and the last of the office equipment would be arriving anytime. He noticed that his office door was closed, something he never did. Casey must have left it as a sign he'd been there. He opened the door and saw the empty desktop with the yellow post-it in the middle.

**_Your Security Stinks!_**

Chuck took out his cell and called the security firm handling the property. They were sending someone right over. He opened the door to the office across the hall from his. This was to have been Sarah's office and he'd already had it carpeted and furnished. The painters would do this office immediately after the lobby. He'd left any wall hangings or other personal touches undone but now he realized he'd probably have little use for this office.

He hadn't heard from her nor had Director Graham mentioned replacing her during any of the briefings or meetings they had. It had been a bit more than a week since she'd been recalled for a family emergency. Until she was replaced or returned, this space was hers. He put a nameplate on the office door identifying her as the Sarah Walker VP/Finance & Administration.

He missed her. It was not the appropriate description for how he felt but the only way he could identify the feeling. He often caught himself staring out the window or just zoning out when working on the manual requested by General Beckman for the _Bartowski Process _reliving some mini-moment or wondering about her. His most frequent and favorite was the tango and the following hours. He could almost recall the tangy scent of her arousal, the softness of her toned inner thigh under the pads of his fingers and the sweetness of her midnight kiss. Oh, yes, he definitely missed her and that bothered him.

He wondered if the next time he saw her would be at his own execution. That would be ironic. The spy world was full of irony. He had envied Bryce much since he'd met him but nothing more than the relationship he'd had with Sarah Walker and now she had someone new. Knowing she wasn't with Larkin was satisfying somehow. He didn't know why but it was. And right now that was sufficient for this stupid little man.

* * *

MacLean, VA

Sarah Walker was all cried out. Her beloved Aunt Cathy, the only real mother she'd ever known, had passed away during the night after a long and painful battle with pancreatic cancer. Her Uncle was making the final arrangements although she knew that her ever-practical aunt had had everything planned down to the smallest detail for her funeral.

She looked at her cell phone for the 20th time and for the 20th time stopped herself from speed dialing Chuck Bartowski. Did they have anything to say to one another? Had he even noticed she was gone? Had she been replaced by one of Beckman's killer drones? She had heard nothing since his successful operation on the 5th. Arthur Graham had taken personal leave to spend every available moment with his dying wife and one of his assistants sat in on briefings for him. He still got daily updates but actual details were often the victims of summarizing.

She worried that she'd been forgotten or that someone new had caught his eye. He was only human and he was young and vulnerable. She did not want someone (or someone else, if she were truthful with herself) exploiting his vulnerability.

For the hundredth time she wished she could take back those hateful words she'd thrown in his face like knives in their hotel room in San Francisco. She'd left him believing she had replaced Larkin with another and it was this other who held her heart and that Chuck meant absolutely nothing to her, just an assignment to complete. She should have told him then who the mystery man was instead of leaving him in the dark but she'd been afraid of the repercussions from her compromise.

She was free of the penalties for compromise. She decided to take Chuck off the grid if sanctions were issued. She would protect her asset until such time as she could protect a lover. There would be a warning from her Uncle Arthur and she began the mental task of listing the steps and materiel she would need to be successful.

But for now she was alone again. And she was so lonely.

* * *

**Offices of CyberLogicals llc  
January 10  
1:00pm**

The sales team from SecurConcepts made an appearance accompanied by their tech rep. Chuck explained that a colleague of his had made a bet that he could breach their security and steal a laptop from his desk more as a jab at his new company than as a real threat. Unfortunately when Chuck arrived at work he found his laptop missing and the note in its place. Basically, Chuck wanted to know what they were going to do about it.

Chuck had already paid for the installation but still had the annual maintenance contract on his desk for signature and payment. The senior sales rep was an obnoxious loud mouth with incredibly poor taste in ties. When he started 'interrogating' Chuck his associate, a really nice looking brunette was embarrassed and wouldn't look Chuck in the eye. The only place she'd look was at the floor, mortified.

"You're sure you followed the instructions and properly armed the system, right, Mr. Bartowski?"

"Yes, and I made sure all the doors were locked and that the exterior light bank was left on as recommended. Check with your security center and they can give you the exact time I logged in and armed the system."

"Well, you must have done something stupid like…" he started to bluster and Chuck had had enough of his bullying tactics. He'd put up with it for 4 years at the BuyMore but now that he was paying the bills, he was the customer. And the customer is always right.

And besides, he was not a 'stupid little man'.

"I've paid for installation and the equipment itself already and the check has cleared the bank. You have until 5:30 this evening to get your crap out of my building and issue a refund check for the equipment. I'll pay for reasonable labor costs to remove it. I'm not incapable of following simple instructions, you pompous idiot. There's a flaw someplace and I wanted it fixed but you assumed your work was perfect. When can I expect your crew to take out your crap?"

Just then the tech rep came in and smiled and apologized for the interruption but said that he'd found two sensors burned out and that access through the rear door would have been undetected. The installation people had apparently left bare wire and a short had compromised the entire zone and would not have been reported or the breach of the door detected and an alarm issued. It was their equipment that was at fault. He'd already repaired the fault and tested the circuits and door. Everything was now in order.

Chuck pointed to the idiot sales rep and said "Get out of my office immediately. I won't deal with you at all." The salesman rose and gestured angrily for the others to leave.

"I said I wouldn't deal with _you_, not them. They can stay. I have a maintenance contract to sign and she might as well get the credit for it. And I need to speak with your tech rep about scheduling periodic inspections."

**_And that's how Chuck met Kimberly Montoya._**

After a few moments of smirking, trying to stifle laughter and then a breakdown in social order by the duo from SecurConcepts, Chuck Bartowski sent them again into gales of laughter. "I take it you two aren't the greatest fans of your Sales Manager?"

"No, Mr. Bartowski, not fans at all. You shouldn't have toyed with him though. I'm sure any request made by CyberLogicals will be relegated to the bottom of the pile or lost. If you'll make any specific requests either directly to Kimberly or me, we'll see that they get proper handling. And I do apologize for…"

"No. You don't need to apologize for that ass. I worked too long on your side of the counter not to understand how things work. His problem is that he assumes he's infallible and that is something I cannot tolerate. So, to make sure there are no problems going forward I'm sending a letter to your corporate office outlining the events and demanding that only you two handle my account. If it won't get you in trouble, that is."

The tech guy flashed Chuck a grin that flowed into a smirk. "No, Mr. Bartowski, we Nerds can handle a doofus like Marvin. We just tech-speak him until his eyes glaze over. It's Kimberly that's going to pay the price. And don't deny it, Kim. He's Mr. Sexual Harassment with horns."

She spoke for the first time. Her voice was pleasantly low and fluid with a hint of a Latin accent that sharpened her 'S's' and made her trill her 'R's'. "It's not a problem, Mr. Bartowski, he's just a bit overbearing. I can handle pretty much anything he can dish out. We grow up tough in East L.A."

"No one should have to put up with that crap no matter where they're from. My…my wife…. well, it was how we really met. And I didn't put up with it and didn't expect her to and you shouldn't have to either."

Kimberly heard something in his tone when he hesitated mentioning his wife, a sadness. She'd glanced around the office and noticed it was bare of anything even remotely personal although she figured it might be because he'd just moved in. But then she noticed the tan line on his left ring finger and thought about divorce first, of course. She'd google and see what she could find out.

She needed to know as much about her customers as possible to do a good job and to avoid any areas of conflict. Besides, this guy seemed too good to be true. In her experience men only wanted one thing from a woman. Yes, she was cynical but with good reason.

When the meeting was over and he'd signed the agreements and written the check he decided to call it a day. He called Casey and asked him where his laptop was and he got a typical reply:

"Why? You lose it? Look under your desk. It's up against the modesty panel in the front. So, did you bust their balls good?"

"Got it, thanks. Their tech guy found the fault in about 2 minutes and then did a system-wide check to make sure the same problem wasn't going to happen elsewhere. I'm keeping the system but fired the sales guy. A real asshole. Thanks for the help. We should do that periodically just to make sure we're not compromised, don't you think?"

"Yes. Definitely. Especially once the Castle facility is up. You hear from Beckman today?"

"Nope, didn't expect to. Figured you were in command and she'd deal with you. I'm just the talking head. You think something's up? A mission? Break some heads and send more terrorists to Allah?"

Casey laughed. This guy was growing on him. "No. Just bored I guess. I need to teach you some basic firearms stuff so keep a day free this weekend. We'll see if you can hit the broad side of a barn, Nerd. See you later."

Chuck wasn't looking forward to firearms stuff. He just didn't like guns. He knew they were a necessary evil but felt comfortable handling his own safety against the average street punk provided they left their armory at home. Still, he needed to know about them. He didn't have to shoot it, just know how to use it in an emergency.

There was a knock at his door and Kimberly Montoya was standing there looking very uncomfortable. "Mr. Bartowski, could I use your phone? My cell died and my boss took the car and left and I need to arrange a ride. I'm sorry to bother you with this. Mike called his brother and got a ride but I live the other direction and I need to call someone."

"Ms. Montoya, if you don't mind riding a motorcycle and wearing a helmet, I'd be glad to drop you off. I'm done for the day and was just heading out myself. It's no inconvenience. I have absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to be. I usually just go down to the beach and think about crap before heading back to my apartment and calling for take-out."

"That would be great but I live over in Echo Park and I'm sure your wife would want you home." Better let him know she's seen the tan line. Some guys take their rings off and try to get lucky with salespeople. Maybe he was one of them.

"I'd like _nothing_ better than to go home to Lynn but she's dead. I'm sorry if this has made you uncomfortable. Here, use my phone. I'll be out in the lobby to give you privacy and I'll stick around so you don't have to wait in the cold for your ride."

He handed her the phone and walked out into the area designated on the drawings as 'lobby'.

'Well, crap. Now I've upset him. His wife is dead? He can't be more than 27 or 28? Accident? Crime? Drugs? He didn't seem the type to put up with a druggie.'

"Mr. Bartowski, I'd love a ride on your motorcycle. I'll have to snuggle up to keep from freezing so please don't misinterpret my actions. I value warmth over modesty. I'm just glad I wore slacks today."

"Then you'll appreciate the modifications I made to this jacket for my wife. Her hands were always freezing, too, although sometimes I think she just liked…well, sorry, inappropriate response, Chuck. Shut up, Chuck."

She laughed again and this time he really looked at her. She had the lightest brown eyes he'd ever seen and suspected contact lenses immediately. She was classically beautiful and Chuck could imagine her wearing those frilly dresses and a mantilla and promenading around the plaza in old Los Angeles in the early 19th century.

Chuck changed and left his clothing in a garment bag he'd have to remember to pick up later. "Ready?" He put the helmet on her and tightened the chin strap. He wiggled the helmet and retightened the strap. He hated to think what the wind would do to her long hair.

"Yes. I've never been on a motorcycle before. I just hang on?"

"Yes, I drive you just stay as upright as possible, don't lean into the turns. We'll be fine. Just don't fall off. My insurance would skyrocket." He smiled and turned out the lights and reset the alarms and escorted her out and double-checked the doors.

"You didn't have to do that on my account, Mr. Bartowski."

"I didn't." And that was all he said.

He got on and she got on behind him. He showed her where to place her feet and where the storm cuffs were for her hands and he started the Harley and drove out slowly, letting her grow accustomed to riding.

During the first turn she'd almost panicked and had tightened her grip on him considerably. He didn't speed and just waited for her to calm down and release her death grip on him so he could breathe. He felt her hands clench into fists on the next turn and he worried she was going to really panic and cause them to spill.

Chuck pulled over and pulled her hands from his jacket and got off the bike. He raised her visor and looked at her. "Ms. Montoya, you're going to have to relax. It's only another 20 minutes or so but I can't have you twisting and turning. Please sit still. I don't want to dump the bike if you freak out. Can you calm down for me?" He was holding her hands and they were trembling.

"Sorry. I just…it will take a few minutes to get used to it. I've never been on one before. Scary."

"OK, let's try it again. Just relax and enjoy the ride. Maybe closing your eyes might help."

They started out again and this time she seemed more relaxed. Something occurred to Chuck and he could kick his ass for not asking earlier. At the next light he asked her if she shouldn't be going back to work to get her car?

"It's dead-lined for a new alternator and payday's a week off so no, home is fine."

Ten minutes later she directed him onto a side street of modest bungalows in classic California style and then pointed to a driveway. He turned into it and stopped and turned off the bike and got off.

"You're only a few miles from my apartment. If you get hung up for a ride, call me. I enjoyed the company."

She looked at him and decided he was serious and harmless. It was obvious to anyone that he had been in love with his wife and he still had moments of despair when familiar things brought back memories. She guessed his wife had been about her height and weight based on the location of the cuffs. And she correctly concluded that the tactile memories came into play.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks a lot. I really didn't want to have to wait for my idiot brother to get off work. Call me anytime you want a passenger. I could really get into that. Like being on a horse only not so bumpy."

"I've never been on a horse. I'm too much the city boy. Not even a pony that I can remember."

"You're kidding? I ride almost every weekend when the weather's decent. You should come out with me some time. If I can hang on to 200 horses, you can manage one, don't you think?"

They both laughed and Chuck took his helmet and put it on but not before catching the hint of her hair scent…vanilla.

He went back to the office and got his garment bag and then rode home. It had been an interesting day. And he'd met an interesting woman in the bargain. Horseback riding? No way. Too old school. Still, Kimberly Montoya was one business card he intended to keep.

Jan 10

8pm

It was midnight in D.C. Sarah Walker looked at her phone. _This is ridiculous. I should just call him. I should just tell him I'm coming back and I'll explain everything then. I can't explain everything. I don't know everything. I don't really know anything. I want to talk to him. I miss him. I want to hear his voice. I need to hear it. I need him to know I'm coming back and not to give up on me. On us._

Her subconscious kicked in: _I, I, I, you know you said 'I' 13 times in 8 sentences. You are fixated on 'I'. What about him? Do you think his legs have grown back since you cut him off at the knees in San Francisco? Do the words 'stupid little man' ring any bells? Our boy's resilient but I'm here to tell you that you have pooped in your pastry, baby girl. You destroyed that fine young man and for what? For…_

_Me, Agent Ego. You did it for me because you couldn't tell him how you really felt because you didn't want to risk damaging ME ME ME ME ME o' I love meeeeeeeeee.  


* * *

_Casa Bartowski  
January 11  
6am

_**Chuck's POV**_

I woke up and smelled the Essence. It was definitely waning. Scent is the strongest of all the senses and it's the most innate. Babies bond with their mothers by scent. Scent is the strongest memory trigger. Scent is an aphrodisiac of sorts. Why do you think women wear perfume?

Ellie was leaving today. The scent that triggers the most Ellie memories lately has been drunken puke. No counseling, so no Devon. No apology, no counseling, so no Chuck. I planned on being gone the whole day. I love my sister. I _owe_ my sister. But I did not like my sister right now. She needed help and as a medical professional she chose to ignore the advice and pleadings of those who loved her. Enjoy Maryland, Ellie.

Ellie left at 7.

I left at 8.

It has been 24 days since my wife left.

I have 341 days left.

Thank God it isn't a Leap Year.

* * *

**Offices of CyberLogicals llc  
January 11  
11:00am**

**_Chuck's POV_**

I was in my office by 9am and now I'm without a damned thing to do. I've finished the damned manual for Frau General Beckman on the _Bartowski Process _and emailed copies to the Director, the General and Casey. No sense including the other handler. I don't think she's going to be making an appearance any time soon. Just as well. The temptation was beginning to grow. I find her incredibly…incredible. Lame, I know but it's the way I feel and this morning feelings do not equate to being articulate. They equate to being…feelings.

I know what I have to do and have been putting off until I can no longer risk not doing the tasks outline. I need to work on my BugOut Tasks. Of the 54 tasks I've identified from surfing the net I'm shocked to find I've complete 31 of them. I swear I must have been on autopilot because I don't remember getting a prepaid Visa Card in my alias. I don't remember buying a Verizon Go-Fone with $200 worth of prepaid minutes, nor do I remember renting a storage unit a few blocks from the BuyMore. I'd also withdrawn $1,500 in cash with denominations of $20, $50 and $100 bills. According to the list, I should withdraw another $1,500 this week.

I run down my list again and run the encryption program written around a personal algorithm that only Lynn or I could ever decrypt. Well, OK, a Cray with unlimited power and tasking could probably do it in say, 2.6 million hours.

I close the tasking program. I'm bored. I wonder what she's doing. I know who _she_ is but I've gotten so I don't refer to her by name just 'she' and 'her'. Less bothersome that way and less personal. Also, I don't have to worry about accidentally flashing on one of her missions or reports. It's bad enough I have her words in my mind. Me, the stupid little man, Mr. Intersect, spoken with all the contempt and venom a person could place on small and unimportant words. Shit. Boredom leads me to maudlin thoughts.

I wonder if Lynn's grandfather has received my letter and package. I hope they provide some comfort since the letter tells him the granddaughter he never saw was dead and the husband she briefly had has sent him a token offering of her remains.

I send General Beckman a weekly status report on the business that is in reality a cover for the Castle project. I never see the people who do the work, I never hear any sounds and I never see any heavy equipment or soil and debris being removed. That freaks me out. I'd ask Casey but I'm fresh out of tolerance this morning already.

I should call her. Really, I should. If only to check and see if she needs anything. Arggg, like Sarah Super Spy would ever need anything from a person like me. Besides, what do I say after 'hello'?

Nope. Scratch that one off to a lost cause. It's time to face facts. I loved my wife. I adored my wife but my wife is dead and I'm not and I'm lonely. The only other person in the world I could connect with on a personal level is driving her crazy ass to Baltimore.

I thought I'd found another, that she felt the same, like she'd found her other part, but I was wrong as she so vehemently informed me in San Francisco on New Year's Day. She'd replaced Bryce Larkin with another. And she had obviously committed to this other person. So much for beach promises made to half crazy grieving surfer boys with bony asses.

I need a human connection. I need to touch and be touched. But all I have is work, the occasional mission, a sword of Damocles swinging over my head and a motorcycle. If I had a regular job I'd say I needed a vacation. This sucks. I wonder if suicide really _is_ painless? Probably not.

* * *

**Reagan Int'l  
Washington, DC**

Agent Sarah Walker of the Central Intelligence Agency was standing in line to board a plane that will take her back to one of the few places on this planet she didn't mind returning to. She'd been briefed on the situation as it existed as of 8pm last evening. Her Uncle had kept his word and there had been no sanction issued. In fact, the performance of the team was considered outstanding and enhancements and an expanded role were being considered for the human intersect, her asset, Charles Bartowski.

So why did she feel as if she was unprepared? She had talked with Casey last night and again this afternoon. He seemed fairly satisfied with the asset and even commented that with the right motivation and preparation he might consider him as adequate to back him up on a singles mission. From John Casey that was high praise, indeed.

She didn't know what to expect. Should she just waltz into the office and announce her return? Should she call him and let him know she was at the airport and needed a ride? Should she wait and show up on his beach and just sit down as if nothing had happened?

Sarah wished, for the uncountable time, that she could take back those horrible words she hurled at him in San Francisco. He just absorbed them and continued on but she had seen the dismay and hurt that flooded his brown eyes.

And when he'd gotten dressed for bed she felt a frisson of hope but when he took down the extra blanket and had gazed briefly at the bed she hoped to share with him if just for a few hours she knew then that her words had not merely wounded, they'd crippled.

Those were the last words she'd spoken to him. His words had been perfunctory and matter of fact when he'd awakened her for the briefing. For crissakes, he'd ordered her breakfast and then disappeared to allow her privacy and space.

As she boarded the aircraft and took her place in first class she realized exactly why she felt the way she did. She was afraid that she had squandered any chance of there being an 'us' by totally disregarding him. That was it. She'd treated him as if he wasn't there. Invisible and inconsequential. Mr. Intersect! How cruel she'd been. And after the tiny speech she'd given him at midnight about the next year being better. She sure had started it off well for him. _Stupid little man._ How cruel and misleading she'd been.

She decided that when she got to L.A. she would call him and ask him to pick her up. She would deal with whatever happened as it unfolded.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
2pm**

"Bartowski, secure"

"Casey, secure. You up for a little trip to the harbor? Another of those manifested ships is docking and Beckman wants us to check it out and see if you can connect any dots on personnel or anything unusual. We'll board with the Customs and Immigration officials and you can basically stand there while they check officers' and crew's papers. I'll be right behind you and you can signal if you flash. This is a deep cover operation in broad daylight. Oh, a woody-maker."

Chuck had to laugh at Casey. It was funny. He was sexually repressed and violence was his out. "Ummm, maybe you could stand beside me, Major?"

Now it was Casey's turn to grunt. "You're going to be packing iron, Bartowski, I think behind you is the safest place on the boat. Just please remember which little lever is the safety and which ejects the magazine. And for God's sake, if you have to shoot, keep your eyes open! Bring your mission bag over to my place in 15."  


* * *

Terminal Island Harbor Facility  
San Pedro, CA  
3:20pm

_MV Lope de Vega_

A little more than an hour later and the two of them had donned their 'mission jammies' and borrowed US Customs Service flak and Kevlar and were following the real Customs Agents up the gangway of a Panamanian registered freighter, the Lope de Vega, supposedly out of Singapore. NSA had tracked the origination point as the North Korean port of Honshu.

The Customs Team had already screened the officers and had begun screening the crew from the ship's roster. The first two were no-hits but the third man caused an almost painful flash. Pak Song Cho, intelligence officer for the NKPPS, the North Korean equivalent of the CIA. His papers were forgeries. Chuck flashed on an egret followed by photos of dead NK dissidents, South Korean intelligence operatives, and a room full of dead lab techs in white coats surrounded by processing equipment. Their faces were mottled blue and blood poured from every orifice of their bodies. Bio-weapons research.

He flashed Casey the signal and Casey drew his weapon and told the man to step aside and to the bulkhead. The next man in line to be screened suddenly turned and bolted form the line knocking down the man standing behind him in line. This provided enough distraction that the suspect drew a weapon from under his loose shirt and shot Casey twice in the chest driving him back against the opposite bulkhead of the small compartment. He then shot the two Customs Agents in the chest and head and fired twice at Chuck who had fallen to the floor and was scrambling to get away from this armed madman.

Seeing Casey go down made Chuck panic. The suspected terrorist grinned at the frightened man and fired at his head, somehow missing by a hair. He ran out of the compartment and Chuck finally recovered enough nerve to run after the man to at least warn the Agents manning the gangway.

He ran down the passageway assuming that the direction of flight matched the direction several crouching and yelling figures were looking and pointing at. The passageway opened onto the ship's main deck and he saw Cho running and turning back into the ship's superstructure.

* * *

Sarah Walker's plane landed at LAX and she retrieved her carry-on and left the aircraft. Her luggage was being shipped directly to her hotel by the Agency.

* * *

Chuck wondered for a second why he was going into the ship instead of trying to escape and suddenly Chuck knew the North Korean agent was going to release a biological agent into the ship and make his escape during the ensuing panic.

He ran after him wishing for the billionth time that he had listened to Devon and gone running with him. He could hardly catch his breath and all the damned heavy equipment he was wearing wasn't helping. He pulled off the heavy vest and drew his sidearm and ran in pursuit. He was thinking that this was the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his life and as he ran down a flight of steps to a grated catwalk he knew he'd screwed up.

'_Bartowski, never, ever, leave your partner. Do not go off-mission. Call for assistance. You are not an agent. You cannot hit the broadside of the barn. You can't even hit the ground with a pistol pointing straight down. Pathetic.'_ And those were the kind words from Major Casey at the shooting range.

He drew his Beretta 92 and ran after the figure he could see one level below him through the grating. He ran down another flight of stairs and spotted the NK agent 10 yards ahead of him. He pointed his pistol and, keeping his eyes open this time, fired 4 rounds at him.

He was insufferably pleased to see the sparks of the ricochets frame the NK agent. Not bad shooting for a scared-shitless asset but he missed and the agent fled down another level and Chuck knew from the ship's blueprints that they were now below the waterline. The heat and poor visibility gave his enemy the advantage.

Cho hid at the end of the gangway grating waiting for the tall American Customs agent to run after him. He only had 4 rounds left but he would put all of them into this pest. And then he would detonate the charges that would release the airborne contaminants into the atmosphere, effectively destroying the harbor's utility for years to come and the surrounding area would be evacuated and the residents quarantined. This was not the objective of his mission but would suffice.

* * *

Sarah Walker stepped to one side of the mass of humanity heading to retrieve luggage, be met by loved ones or catch ground transport. She took out her cell and speed-dialed Chuck Bartowski to tell him she was back and could he please come and pick her up?

* * *

Chuck had just jumped from the stairs onto the deck grating when he felt his phone vibrate. Casey! He answered in a rush of words, not letting the caller say anything as he gasped for breath.

"Casey, you're alive! I'm on _gasp_ deck 3 in pursuit. Don't _gasp _kill me, Casey, _gasp_ but he's probably going to _gasp_ detonate a device _gasp_ and release all _gasp_ that shit into the ship _gasp_ and atmosphere. It'll create a huge plague _gasp_ and we can't let that _gasp_ happen."

Chuck was only 15 feet away from him when Cho stepped out from among some conduits and raised his pistol and fired.

His Makarov PM had been manufactured in Korea in 1970. Unfortunately, the ammunition was circa the Korean War and had degraded. Instead of a satisfying **BANG** there was the sound of a pig breaking wind as the cartridge expanded and jammed in the breach and bore rendering the weapon hopelessly jammed and useless.

"Oh, shit!" Chuck was sure he was dead. The enemy agent could not miss at this range. Hell, _he _couldn't miss at this range.

The enraged NK agent threw his useless pistol at the American and drew a wicked ship's knife from a sheath and advanced on the staggering agent. His throw had caught him in the chest and obviously stunned him if the grunt of pain was any indication.

* * *

Sarah Walker startled the many people walking around her with a scream of "Chuck!" when she heard him say "Oh, shit!" followed by an obvious grunt of pain.

* * *

Casey felt like he'd been hit with a large sledge hammer. Twice. He knew he had cracked ribs, maybe one of the cracked was broken. He pulled himself up and found a charnel house of blood and brain tissue on the compartment wall and two dead Customs Agents and no Bartowski. The growl he gave was almost feral.

He ran out into the companionway and the remaining crew just pointed down the companionway leading to the deck. He saw the asset's vest lying discarded on the deck near a hatch leading to stairs down into the ship's hull. He ran down in pursuit.

* * *

Chuck dropped the phone and aimed his pistol at the advancing NK agent and fired the 5 remaining rounds in his magazine. Four missed and one caught the NK agent in the calf knocking him down. While Chuck fumbled through a drill he'd only done twice and ejected the empty magazine and tried to remove another from his belt the wounded enemy agent screamed in rage and ran at the tall American who was trying to reload his pistol.

Chuck looked up just in time to see the point of the blade slicing towards his face and instinctively raised his left arm to block the slash. The knife cut through the cloth, skin and muscle and scraped the bone. The pain was incredible and he screamed in pain and backed up from his assailant holding his bleeding arm. The agent slashed at Chuck's unprotected stomach then limped back and assumed an attack stance. The agent charged again and Chuck's judo lessons paid dividends as he grasped the slashing agents wrist and threw him up and over the catwalk railing to fall 20 feet to the lower deck, impaling himself on some nasty metalwork jutting from the heavy equipment.

* * *

Both Sarah Walker on the phone and John Casey on the grated decking above Bartowski heard the five rounds fired rapidly, the scream of rage then a scream of pain from the asset and then nothing for several seconds. Sarah heard a pounding of feet through the phone and then Casey saying something into his phone about "Agents down, require assistance and medical unit to…" and Sarah heard the location of the incident and ran out of the concourse to the ground level taxi stand.

* * *

John Casey was standing beside the dead NK agent. The fall would have injured him but it was the 18 inches of steel rod protruding through his chest that killed him. He couldn't find his damned asset. He would kill the son of a bitch for leaving him and going off on his own.

As he searched the dead enemy agent he felt drops hitting his cap bill like spring rain. Looking up he saw the body of his asset spread eagled face down on the grating above him. It was his blood dripping on the older man.

* * *

Sarah pushed an older man out of the way and shouted the location she wanted the cab to take her to and jumped in. The driver started protesting and she shoved $300 into his hand and told him to get moving or she'd shoot him. She waved her service pistol in his face and the produced her government ID. "Don't stop for anything. You're now in the service of the US government and immune from prosecution. Go below 90 and I'll throw you out and drive myself."

She heard John Casey say to someone "bag him and leave him on deck. He's mine. I'll be up to handle the body in a few minutes." She started to cry. Chuck was dead. That's what Casey meant. Casey meant that the body was a team mate and he'd take care of it.

Casey pointed to the dead NK agent on the lower deck and told the agent with the body bag to bag him and leave him on the ship's upper deck. "He's mine. I'll be up to handle the body in a few minutes."

Then he knelt down beside his unconscious asset and watched as the medics readied him for transport. A deep defensive wound on the left forearm and more dangerously a slash across the midsection. The medics were already pushing plasma into him.

Casey got up to follow them and spotted Chuck's iPhone on the deck. Crazy asshole was talking on the phone before the attack!

He saw the caller ID and spoke into the phone. "Hello, Walker, are you still there? Walker, answer me, damn it!"

Sarah Walker had heard every word said but didn't understand the context. When she heard Casey's voice she answered, not caring that he would know she'd been crying.

"Casey, I heard the whole thing. He thought you were dead but answered the phone hoping it was you and rushed a report of his location and intentions about stopping a biological incident. I heard the firing and the fight. The screams. I heard you tell someone to bag his body and leave it on deck. I'll be there in 10 or 15 minutes. Wait for me, please?"

"No can do, Agent Walker. I got an asset bleeding like a stuck pig and I got to get him to the hospital. Meet us in San Pedro at the ER. I'll fill you in then. Damned stupid shit. I told him 'never leave my side, never go off on your own. Never think you can hit the broad side of the barn.' Stupid shit. Fair job for a stupid shit."

"Wait, he's alive? He's not dead, Casey?"

"You deaf? You don't take dead bodies for stitches. I'm hanging up now. Hate this piece of crap phone."

* * *

The first incident report started the wheels of the intelligence community moving and like most big wheels they went in circles. First they played the blame game, then they played the cover-my-ass game and finally after about 4 hours someone thought to ask the people who actually had been on the scene.

Both General Beckman and Director Graham were in rare form. For once, they were united against the gnomes of the National Security Council and had provided valuable intelligence as well as a force on site that prevented a possible holocaust. It wasn't a smug attitude that they projected, no, it was an "I told you so" attitude. The Council had been cautioned time and again of the possibility of rogue nations attacking the US mainland using poor man's weapons of mass destruction such as anthrax, the plague or ebola. And it had happened but been thwarted by the combined efforts of the NSA and CIA.

The General and Director's initial impressions of the operation had been less favorable. The injuries to the asset were particularly disturbing.

"Major Casey, how did Mr. Bartowski happen to become separated from you?"

"I was unconscious and the asset assumed I was out of action. The other two Customs Agents were dead, splattered all over the compartment. He took the initiative to pursue the enemy agent. He was the only team member left alive. The Customs agents at the gangway were killed by the enemy agent."

"Major Casey, why did he drop his vest? And where did he get a weapon? And what made him assume the worst scenario possible? And how did he overcome a trained enemy agent?"

"Bartowski's a physical wreck. He gets winded after a brisk sit. I guess he thought he could run faster without it. As for the weapon, I gave it to him. We go into hairy shit and I go down, I want him to be able to defend himself or eliminate himself. It was at his request that he be given 'basic training' in one side arm. He was the one who said he couldn't be taken alive and needed a way to do it. It was a reasonable request."

"As for overcoming the NK? He's got some judo training and it worked here. Knowing Bartowski he would have impaled himself on the NK's knife and hugged him and jumped over the catwalk railing. He does tend to focus on the objective without much regard to rules and his personal safety. We all know he's suicidal."

"Major Casey, what are your recommendations? Should he be 'institutionalized' for his own safety?" Casey knew that was Beckman for secure facility.

"Keep him on a shorter leash. He's valuable in the field. He's got courage but not a lot of experience. Team him with me and Walker. Let us hold his hand and lead him through the rough spots. We are a lot more effective with him than without him. This mission proved that as have the others."

"Agent Walker, are you willing to keep him on a very tight leash?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's a proven asset. Untrained but with good instincts."

"Mr. Bartowski's sister is currently working at Johns-Hopkins in Baltimore. Move in with the asset, Agent Walker. Expand your established cover. Keep him on a _very _tight leash."

"Major Casey, you seem to have softened your attitude towards the asset. Explain yourself."

"We get things done. Important things. He does what's necessary. I haven't softened up. I intend to harden him up once he's back on his feet. Fired 5 rounds at the NK and hit him in the shin. Pathetic."

"Alright, people. That will be all. Tell Mr. Bartowski 'well done' when he's conscious. A very 'well done'."

"Sorry about the assignment, Agent Walker. I don't envy you living almost 24/7 with him. He's fine on missions but the rest of the time…"

"It's for the greater good, Major. I'll just have to make the most of it. But I want the bugs out, Casey. Keep them on the perimeter but not in the apartment. I may have to do some distasteful things and having you know about them, well, as a fellow professional I'm sure you understand. Remember our conversation in the Drake?"

"Consider it done. Just don't blame me when he cries himself to sleep. Or dreams and awakens crying. I won't miss that at all."

Casey was happy. He was freed from surveillance duty and could concentrate on his bonsai.

Sarah Walker was happy. She could concentrate on seducing her asset.

Chuck Bartowski was happy. He was unconscious.


	10. Night times were lighter

GreenEyedGirl10

_A/N This should answer some questions, allay some fears and move things along a bit.  
__It's short because I wanted to get this on the system before leaving for a long leg.  
__Thanks for the reviews, even from the haters…lol_

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
__Naples, FL  
__28 June 2009  
_

* * *

**January 11  
****San Pedro Hospital  
6pm**

Chuck was in surgery when Sarah arrived at the hospital. At first they would not tell her anything. No information at all. She knew she could flash her ID and claim national security matter but that might compromise the cover Casey and Chuck had prepared.

She finally saw a group of Customs Officers standing around drinking coffee and consoling the families of the fallen officers.

She approached the group and asked if anyone knew where her boyfriend Chuck Bartowski was.

"So that's his name? Bartowski. Worth knowing and remembering. He's in surgery. Got sliced up pretty bad but he brought down the scumbag who killed four agents and hurt his partner. Threw him off a catwalk onto the deck. Bad assed dude."

"Where's his partner? Can I see him?"

"He's in one of the exam rooms. Lucky he was wearing a vest. Bar- well, whoever he was, took his off because it was slowing him down. Good thing, too. Enough shit down there to poison the West coast. It was closer than I like to think."

She found Casey being wrapped after an X-ray. "Casey, how bad is it?"

"Couple of cracked ribs, that's all."

"Damn it, Casey, I meant the asset. He's in surgery. What happened?"

"He got stuck pretty good. Sliced the crap out of his forearm, some muscle damage, no nerve damage though. His stomach's going to need a lot of stitches. Some muscles compromised. Some therapy. He should be out of surgery in a couple of hours."

When they brought him to the room from recovery all the Customs Agents filed in and made sure she didn't need anything. Apparently they'd adopted Chuck as one of their own. She wasn't sure but she thought he might be embarrassed by all the fuss. His tray table contained the business cards of all the agents and two new caps and a note saying all he had to do was call if he needed anything.

She started to reevaluate her plan. She knew he'd freak out if he regained consciousness and she was there, hanging onto his hand, crying her eyes out. She'd been so afraid for him. The hasty report, the cry of pain, the shots then the scream and then silence. She'd never been so afraid for someone else in her life. And then she had misunderstood Casey's comments and thought he was dead. Her whole world collapsed and she had cried for all she'd lost and all she'd never have.

She would tell him as soon as he was coherent enough to understand. She would not waste one more second. He needed to know. She needed to tell him. And she needed to explain the whole mess at the Drake.

The doctor came in and explained things in great detail. There was extensive damage to the abdominal muscles and wall but no compromise to any organ. He'd lost a lot of blood and the replacement would take a few hours. He'd sleep most of the time and any movement would be exceedingly painful so muscle relaxants and pain medication were also prescribed IM as required.

Under no circumstances was he to become excited because of the nature of his injury and the extensive tearing. The doctor intended keeping him sedated and loaded on pain meds until discharge.

She knew she couldn't be here when he awoke. She kissed him softly and left. He'd be home soon enough.

They released Bartowski from the hospital on January 17 and Casey was there to drive him back to his apartment in Burbank. For the past 6 days the only visitors Chuck had were a string of US Customs Agents calling to pay their respects and learn whatever unclassified information they could to avoid similar problems in the future. The loss of four Customs Agents was a blow to the units and the respect they showed Bartowski was genuine but in his drugged state he saw it as thinly veiled contempt that their fellow officers were dead and a coward like him was alive.

Casey came by twice, once because his cracked rib was indeed broken and the second time to bring him his laptop. The General wanted the entire event documented in Chuck's own words. She intended to have analysts pick it apart and try to determine how an untrained asset could take down an enemy agent and avoid a major biological disaster. She was convinced it was more than 'dumb luck'.

No one mentioned the return of Sarah Walker.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
****January 17  
****2pm**

Sarah knew that the next 2 days were critical for her and Chuck Bartowski. She had moved her things into Ellie's empty bedroom per the General's instructions. She was prepared to stay there as long as it was necessary. She had no idea how he felt about that. She knew she needed to stress that it was an order and it kept him alive and in the light. She would also make damned sure he knew it was an order she would follow willingly and with delight. She was going to explain everything to him in great detail and throw herself on his mercy.

Tomorrow was the one-month anniversary of his wife's death. She wanted to ensure that nothing spoiled it for him. If he wanted to mourn, fine. If he didn't, that was fine too.

She was scared to death she would screw this up.

Chuck was dreading going back to his apartment. The widow of one of the murdered Customs Agents had come by to see if there was anything he needed or anything she could do. She was 4 months pregnant with their first child. He could see something in her eyes that was more honest than the others who were trained to school their features and not reveal their inner thoughts. She looked at him and wondered why a coward should be alive and her husband dead. Her visit was probably the one that put iron in his resolve to bring down as many of these terrorists using the intersect as he could

He was a fool and a coward, not an agent. His arm and stomach were reminders of that. From now on he would stand in the shadows and let the real agents like Casey and the Customs officers do the work. He would provide intelligence only.

He was a coward and he knew it. So did the others. His solo mission with the war criminal in the sedan with the ashtray was a fluke, nothing more. He had screamed like a baby when he'd been slashed while his enemy absorbed a bullet to the leg as if it were nothing. He had been lucky. Damned lucky. Beckman wanted to prove it was more than that but Chuck knew the truth.

His New Year's Eve mission had also been mostly luck and the presence of a quick-witted and experienced agent.

He was a fool, a coward and a stupid little man. He could live with that for 334 more days. While he waited for Casey to come for him he took another pill and wondered again at the hows and whys of the universe.

His doctor came with a prescription for painkillers and something to help him sleep. The nurses had reported that he rarely slept through the night without several nightmares. His patient needed sleep to fully recover. He also gave Chuck a sponge rubber ball to use to rebuild the strength in his arm muscles.

Casey came in and walked with the nurse who wheeled Chuck to the elevator. Chuck had no idea he was the local hero and the female staff was quite enamored of him. A mysterious government employee who had a constant string of Customs Agents and other LEOs visiting him spurred on the creation of more elaborate scenarios, some of which would have made the young man blush.

All he wanted to do was get away and find a nice safe hole and crawl in. He was tired. He couldn't sleep. He was afraid of sleeping. He dreamed. He didn't want to dream.

Casey stopped at a pharmacy on the way back to Burbank. Bartowski had been given a string of materials for the sutured incision in his abdomen to enable him to shower and the prescriptions. The pharmacist had looked at Casey after seeing what drugs had been prescribed but knew better than to question a physician's order no matter the dosage and prescribed frequency.

He pulled up in front of the complex. He knew Walker was 'in residence' already because she'd given him the clothes Chuck wore to leave the hospital. He wondered how she was going to explain it to Bartowski. Casey figured that Bartowski's mood would improve radically when he saw his own personal Barbie doll in residence.

No wonder she asked for the mikes and cameras to be removed. Although he really didn't begrudge the kid his jollies, he'd rather not have known the providing agent personally.

He unlocked the door and handed Chuck the keys and wished him a good night. His job was done for another day. Poor Agent Walker's was just beginning.

The first thing Chuck noticed was that all the furniture was missing. At first he thought he'd been robbed but then realized that Ellie's movers had struck. Well, he didn't plan on spending much time sitting around in the apartment. He had an agenda.

Sarah had heard the door open and close. The movers had been there this morning and now there was an additional complication to an already complicated issue. They had taken Ellie's bedroom furniture, including the bed. They'd also cleaned out everything that wasn't in Chuck's room. Nice of her to exempt her brother from total humiliation. She figured she and Chuck could go shopping for furniture if he felt up to it. The sleeping arrangements would be…interesting.

Sarah came out of Chuck's room just in time to see him dry swallow a pain pill. Apparently the ride had taken its toll. He was slightly bent at the waist as if standing up straight would be painful or impossible.

She'd changed the sheets and aired out the room as best she could. Now all she had to do was get him into bed and comfortable. She planned on sitting in the chair while she went through her explanation.

Chuck looked up and saw Agent Walker coming out of his bedroom. What was she doing here? Was he hallucinating? Had he lost track and taken too many pills? And why was she in his bedroom.

"Hello, Chuck, welcome back. I'm so glad you're here. There have been some adjustments to the working relationship after your mission. Beckman and Graham both agreed you need to be… accompanied more. So, I was detailed to become your roommate. If you want to lie down, I'll explain everything in detail."

Chuck was speechless. The poor girl was now required to be with him apparently 24/7. This must be torture for her. How could Beckman and Graham be so cruel? Surely their 'greater good' did not require such an extreme sacrifice as the one Agent Walker was making. The look on his face flowed from surprise to anger and finally to despair.

"Chuck, please say something. Please." She was on the verge of tears again. She was practically shaking. She was shocked to realize she was afraid of his reaction and response. Green light. Red light. Start. Stop. Come. Go. Accept. Reject. Would he reject her?

"Why are they doing this to you? Why are they punishing you? You don't want to be here. You want to be with - with whatshisname. I'm sorry if you told me his name and I've forgotten. But I remember what you said. And I'm so sorry, Sarah. So very sorry."

Sarah thought he was going to cry for her. He looked so forlorn all of a sudden. It must be the medication. He's seems so lost. So unconnected with anything. It must be the meds.

She walked over to him and put her arms around him being careful of all his injuries. "Chuck, whatshisname is _you_, Chuck Bartowski. Director Graham is my foster father. I've pulled strings. No surveillance in the apartment. No listening devices. You're free when you're here and so am I. I know it's too soon for you, Chuck, but I'm patient. I'll wait. Please don't give up on us. I love you. I'm in love with you. I know it seems impossible but it's true. And I know you feel something for me. I know it. That's why I asked for this extended assignment and why I won't leave, no matter what."

Chuck looked down at her and smiled. It was too soon. But he couldn't deny her. He'd need help with that. Would she help?

"Sarah, what I feel is so buried right now in guilt and despair over Lynn and the people I let down on the freighter. Please, just, just… I'm so fucked up right now. I don't deserve…I'm just so damned tired. I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep. I'm afraid to sleep anymore."

_What was he talking about? Guilt over his wife not even dead a month I can understand but letting people on the freighter down? He was their hero. How could he not know? And what, he doesn't deserve to be happy? He doesn't deserve me? Oh, Chuck, you have no idea._

"Sarah, what I need right now at this moment in time is for you to be patient. It's too soon for me to love another. But time heals. I don't know how long it will take. If you're still here and still feel the same…"

"You're the only person I've thought of since New Years. I couldn't bring myself to say your name, just used pronouns but I always knew 'she' was you, Sarah Whateveryournamereallyis. I always knew. And I missed you. I hope that's enough for now because it's all I can give."

"Come on, come with me. You need to rest and I'll just lay there and keep the demons away. Nothing will hurt you, Chuck. I promised you on the beach, remember? You're all I have now. Those Customs agents, you're their hero. You should see what they left for you. You saved a whole city, Chuck. A whole city. Graham and Beckman send their best wishes and congratulations on a job very well done."

She took him by the hand and led him into his bedroom. Their bedroom, Chuck and Lynn's and Chuck and Sarah's. She knew it was too soon for another when his heart was still healing from the loss of one he'd plan to spend his life with. But she was patient.

She would settle first for friendship and companionship and let nature take her course. No pressure. They had time. She would take him off the grid if and when necessary.

But first she had to deal with more practical matters like getting a man who couldn't bend normally without pain naked.

"Chuck, I have a really important question for you. Think very carefully before answering because the results of your answer will final. Ready for the question?"

"Y-y-yes?"

"How attached are you to this t-shirt?"

"Wha-wah-what?" He looked shocked. It wasn't what he expected the question to be.

"Not very, why?"

Sarah just smiled and reached behind her and pulled out a pair of scissors and gently pulled the t-shirt loose from his dockers. "Because, my love…" she started snipping the fabric from the bottom slowly up to mid-abdomen…"I don't want to hurt you by making you reach up to remove it." She snipped up to the neck. "And this is the simplest way to do it. Now turn around while I cut up the back. We'll have to see about button-up shirts for a while."

"Um, you want to do the honors?" she said, gesturing at his dockers. She was afraid if the just started undoing them he might freak out. He looked skittish as it was.

Once he was down to boxers, she helped him lie down carefully and covered him with a sheet. "Chuck, promise me you'll never take off your vest again, please. It's the only thing I'll ask you to promise me for a while. Baby steps. OK? Now, promise me, please."

"I promise, Sarah. I'll keep on my vest. But what about showering?" He knew what she meant and he knew what it to her. Baby steps.

"Don't make light of a promise to me, Chuck. You don't do it to others, do you? I don't want something like this to happen again. The vest would have protected you. Please promise me." She was lying beside him, not touching but leaning over his face.

"I promise."

"Good. Now take a nap. Ellie took everything but what's in this room. When you feel up to it, we'll go shopping. And I want to see about getting an office space someplace near your company, Chuck. Remember, it's more than a cover for me, it's a commitment to you, to us."

Chuck blushed and suddenly looked uncomfortable. Sarah seized on it and felt maybe the commitment thing was a bit much for him now although it was true.

"Before you look for an office near the company, what's wrong with the office across the hall from mine? I've even put your name on the door, Sarah. 'Sarah Whateverhernameis, V/P of Finance & Administration'. Or was I being presumptuous? You get to pick your own furnishings and stuff. I just had the computer cables run out and left since I didn't know where you wanted things. You can look elsewhere if you'd feel uncomf…mmphfff"

She stopped his rambling with a brief closed-mouth kiss, just a hit of pressure and promise. It also allowed her to center her emotions a bit.

"Feeling pretty sure of yourself there, sport. What if I hadn't come back?"

"The I would have run a personals ad asking for anyone named Sarah Whateverhernameis to apply for a job. I'd already got the nameplate. Waste not, want not."

"Idiot. Now, sleep. I'll be right here keeping the dream dragons at bay. I told you, I'm not going anywhere. And I love the idea of being able to just walk across the hall and see you. It will make a lot of things easier. Especially once the Castle is finished." Actually, she was thinking about how convenient it would be for hot makeout sessions. She'd have to make sure Chuck's office had a couch. Sarah Walker was on a mission of her own.

**Chuck is dreaming…**

_I run past two dead Customs Agents laying near the gangway. They've been shot. I see where the NK agent has ducked into another companionway and start to follow, dumping my vest that is slowing me down and breaking my promise. I run down a flight of stairs and jump onto the metal grating that forms the deck of each level. I draw my weapon and push off the safety. My phone is on vibrate and I look at the caller ID – S. Walker – and answer it but don't say anything._

"_You broke your promise to me, Chuck. You took off your vest. You're going to die now. I warned you but you never listen, you stupid little man. Don't come back, Chuck. I won't be here."_

_I don't have time for this now. I see the NK agent across from me on the catwalk. He draws his weapon and throws it over the railing. He reaches behind him and draws out a Katana and starts waving it around. _

_I shoot the NK agent 5 times in the chest. He goes down. I am amazed I hit him at all. I fumble to eject the clip and take a new one from my belt. I look up and see the NK agent slicing down towards me with his sword. I scream as the blade slices through cloth and flesh and bone. I look at the stump of my arm. My hand is lying on the deck. _

"_You're dead. I shot you five times." I shout in his face, weakening as my life blood spurts from the stump._

"_Stupid little man, I wear a vest." And he slices the sword diagonally across my belly and my guts fall out all over the grating like a huge coiled and bloody snake._

_I broke my promise to Sarah and now I'm dying. Fair is fair. I can't put them back no matter how hard I try they just keep slipping from my grip and finally…wake up, it's only a dream. Wake up, I'm here._

Sarah watched Chuck dream. Suddenly he screamed and grabbed his stomach, frantically clawing at the sheet trying to pull it up like it was something else entirely.

She grabbed his wrists to keep him from possibly tearing his staples out, and she shouted to him that it was only a dream, that he was safe and she was there. She pinned his arms straight down along his sides and straddled him hoping to calm him down enough to awaken.

She could feel his body begin to lose its tension and she released his wrists and got off the bed and went into bathroom and got a damp cloth. She wiped the sweat from him and that seemed to awaken him.

"Chuck, it was only a dream. You're ok, you're with me. Take deep breaths and relax. Calm down."

Sarah had experiences with nightmares. She knew she had to get him to open up and recount the dream as quickly as possible to confront the underlying causes.

"Chuck, wake up for me. Here, take a sip of water. Please wake up." She piled all the pillows left against the headboard and helped him ease himself into a semi-sitting position. "Tell me about the dream, Chuck. Please. We can work together to stop the worst of the nightmares if you just tell me about."

"I was back in the ship chasing the agent. I dropped the vest and ran after him and followed him below decks. I was about to shoot him when you called me and told me I was going to die because I broke my promise about the vest and not to come back because you were leaving."

"I shot the NK 5 times in the chest and he went down. I listened to you yell at me for being a stupid little man and then he cut off my hand with a sword. He was wearing a vest. I wasn't. He cut me open and my guts were all over the deck and I couldn't put them back, Sarah. But it was fitting since I broke my promise. I warned you I was screwed up, Sarah. I didn't mean to break my promise."

Sarah sat up beside him and put her arms around him. "It was only a dream, Chuck. You haven't broken your promise to me. It was just a horrible dream. Talk to me, please, Chuck. What other dreams have you been having? We can help each other by talking them out. Believe me, I have some whopper nightmares. You wait. My turn will come. It always does for people in our business."

"You mean I'll get to throw a bucket of water over, don't you? There is no way I'm going to sit on you and hold your wrists down. You might kill me with an eyelash or maim me with an ear lobe. I'll be standing way over there."

"You throw water on me, Charles Irving Bartowski, and you better sleep with one eye open." She had missed the funny Chuck.

"Sarah, if I hadn't gotten hurt would you be here?"

Ah, the dreaded question. "Yes, well, maybe not right here in this bed but Chuck when you were reporting your situation on the ship to Casey, Chuck, that was me on the phone calling from the airport to tell you I was back home and asking for a ride. And I heard your report and what followed and I thought you were dead and then I heard Casey's voice saying put the body on the deck it was yours, and I just fell apart. I thought I'd lost my chance, that I'd never get to tell you how I felt and to tell you how sorry I was for my yelling on New Years and I just started screaming your name in the airport."

"I think your answer would be 'yes', Sarah. Please, it's ok. I understand. I just don't want to be an obligation or burden to anyone. Especially not to you."

"Let me spell this out for you in simple terms. I love you. I want to be with you. Living here with you is not an obligation, it is my dream. I am taking advantage of the NSA and CIA by using them to get what I want. No, not what. Who. You. I even have plans for us to escape together if those bastards ever try to sanction you or imprison you. I have money, Chuck, a lot of money. We will be able to disappear. You're going to have to give up Ellie, though. Once we go off the grid, there's no contact. None at all. You're dead to her. If you can't accept that then it's a no-go and I'll think of something else. You understand now, surfer boy?"

"I understand. There are some things you need to understand, little Miss CIA Agent."

"So, tell me. Let's get all the dirty shit out from under the bed and deal with it so we can move forward, Mr. Bartowski." She smirked and figured it would be a short conversation.

"I have a BugOut plan of my own. I've got about ¾ of it in place. Understand, Sarah, I will not be in some hole in the ground. I'll make you guys kill me first. That's a promise I would never break. I will not be imprisoned. Ever."

"Damn it, Chuck, I'm not 'you guys'. I'm an agent of the CIA as long as it doesn't interfere with us. US, you big dolt, is Chuck and Sarah. I'll get a warning from the Director. Family ties. And we run, Chuck. We find each other and we run."

She couldn't help herself. She snuggled closer to him and took his hand in hers. "Tomorrow, when you feel better, and have had some decent sleep, I want to go over your plan. You think of things most people don't. And we'll have to make sure there's room for me in it…" She looked up at him, her eyes asking the question she really meant.

"There's always room for you, Sarah. Especially now."

"So, anything else?"

"Yeah, about Ellie. I doubt I'll ever see my sister again. I pushed her hard and it blew up in my face. All that shit we did and hid back when the foster system was hunting for me came to the surface and she didn't handle it well. Her last complete sentence was "I hate your fucking guts, Chuck."

"Oh, baby, she'll come around. Give her time. Did you give her the name of the shrink I recommended?

"Yep. That's what started the war, that and the fact that she sabotaged every relationship she's ever had and tried to do the same with me. I love my sister, Sarah, but I don't like her anymore. Does that make sense to you?"

"More than you'll ever know. We both have skeletons and dark places in our lives. Maybe together we can get rid of some of them at least. And no, I'm no suggesting couples counseling, Chuck. We don't need that. At least not for years yet. Now, you feel relaxed and calm enough to go back to sleep?"

"Yeah, thanks, Sarah. I'm glad we're here. Watch TV if you want. Noise doesn't bother me. Just no chick flicks, please."

'_I'm glad we're here.' _Those words brought tears to her eyes. She needed to get a grip on her emotions. She couldn't help him if every time he spoke some fundamental truth it made her cry. She hadn't been this happy in years. Tears of joy and happiness had been sorely lacking in her life. She intended to change that. She looked at the clock and decided he needed sleep more than food. They'd be roughing it for a while. At least she'd rescued the take-out menus from the movers.

EndGreenEyedGirl10


	11. Ham vs Eggs Involved vs Committed

GreenEyedGirl11

A/N

**Casa Bartowsk  
January 18  
6am**

He had slept 10 hours and felt better than he had in days. He'd had the strangest dream about Sarah Walker and about dreams within dreams. The dream had been sweet but transient. He gingerly rolled onto his side and was prepared to lever himself out of bed as they'd taught him at the hospital. This method used fewer muscles on his lower abdomen and was the best way to get up while avoiding all but a few twinges of pain.

He rolled onto his side and his face was suddenly enveloped within a mass of hair that smelled of vanilla. He inhaled and wondered if he was still dreaming? He remembered her unique scent from the motorcycle helmet and the Tango. So like Lynn's and yet so unique to her. Among the fragrance he discovered an expanse of warm, bare skin and was delighted to have a rush of memory from the previous evening.

It wasn't a dream, it had been real and it was still here. He finally opened his eyes. She was sleeping as close to him as she could get. He knew this because he had learned the hard way not to move around when you were almost cut in half. He had not wandered. She had.

He buried his face in her hair and put an arm around her, resting the palm of his injured arm flat against her stomach below her breasts. She had appropriated one of his t-shirts and it had ridden up to expose a smooth expanse of pale skin warm to his touch. She laid her hand over his and sighed, still asleep.

Chuck would gladly spend the remainder of the day just as he was, were it not for the incessant and annoying pressure of Mother Nature. Sighing with both happiness and disappointment he managed to get himself off the bed and as upright as possible and down the hall to the bathroom

The sudden loss of warmth on her back woke her. In the first few seconds of a new day her mind reminded her "go find Chuck". She knew he was in the bathroom because she needed the same facility although not as urgently as he had. Rolling out of bed and surveying the room she found her hairbrush and with a few quick strokes rendered bedhead into a loose ponytail.

Chuck was in the shower leaning on the wall for support, shampoo in one hand and the faucet in the other. The warm water coursing down his back was soothing and the plastic taped to his abdomen protected his incision. He heard Sarah take care of business and marveled at the level of intimacy reached between two people who had known each other less than 30 days.

'_Lynn, I know, I know, it's not too soon. But I promised you a year and a year you shall have. Don't bitch too much, little girl, it's your own damned fault. You made me promise, you tricked me into waiting, thank you.'_

He felt better. He could imagine her face and hear her laughter. She'd always known what was best for him, for them. He found a measure of peace he hadn't felt since her passing.

Chuck groaned as he straightened up and soaked his head in the warm spray and squeezed shampoo onto his head. One-handed was all he could manage. He needed the other for balance. He would not embarrass himself in front of Sarah Walker by falling on his ass in the shower. No more hospitals.

Sarah debated waiting for him to see if he needed any help or just going out and starting the coffee in the pot she'd bought when she realized all the appliances had been stripped when Chuck dropped the shampoo and said "oh, crap". That was all the motivation she needed to strip off her t-shirt and boxers and plunge into the shower to help.

Chuck heard the shower door open and close and then a warm and soft body pressed itself up against him and he heard "let me help you, Chuck, don't be stubborn. Let me help." He nodded and leaned against the wall with both hands like a criminal waiting for a cop's frisk. Her fingers were busy rinsing the shampoo from his hair and rubbing her body wash over him as gently but effectively as possible.

"You know I'm going to smell all fruity and people will think I'm gay, don't you?"

"Good. Then the damned women will stay away from you and I won't have to kill anyone today. We'll get you some 'manly' stuff since the movers thought all of yours was Ellie's. They were more efficient that an NSA cleaner team." She was trying to keep his mind off what they were doing. It was too soon for such intimacy. Not for her, oh God no, not for her, but certainly for him.

He turned to face her, leaning back against the wall and his turn had been so unanticipated that she lost her balance momentarily and leaned her length against his. Instinctively his arms shot around her to keep her from falling and hers around his torso in automatic response.

"Oh, God" moaned Sarah softly. She knew he'd be able to feel the hard points of her nipples against his skin and knew he'd either ignore them or be embarrassed or both. "Hand me the shampoo, Sarah, turn-about is fair play."

As he massaged the shampoo into her hair it was all she could do to avoid purring. Such an everyday act turned into such an intimate and arousing moment when done by someone you loved. He hummed a nonsensical melody into her ear and he lathered her long hair and then rinsed it. She didn't dare move a muscle. She was that close.

Chuck laughed to himself as he ministered to her hair. He hadn't had this much fun since Lynn. And he didn't feel the incredible guilt he thought he should because his amazing wife had prepared him, had set her traps and he'd blunder right into them. The constricting bands on his heart had lessened every day since Sarah had saved him at the beach.

"Sarah, I need to do something today and I don't think I can or should use the bike. Can you take me somewhere this morning? There's something I have to do. I'll buy you breakfast on the way as recompense…" He chuckled. "There isn't a damned thing to eat in the apartment except toothpaste."

Softly she whispered in his ear "I'll take you anywhere any when any time if you promise to wash my hair exactly like this every morning for the rest of my life. You have no idea how…"

"Yes, I do. I'm not dead, Sarah. Now rinse off and let's get going. We have a busy day ahead of us. Plans to review, plots to make, a trip downtown and then, if I haven't collapsed, I think we need to do some furniture shopping. And eat. I have to feed us, Sarah. And buy some manly shampoo. I swear if one guy hits on me…"

Sarah looked down involuntarily. She wasn't sneaking a peek; she wanted to see the damage done to him. She gasped and said "Oh, Chuck."

He looked down to see if little Chuck was annoying her and realized this was the first time she'd seen his wound. It was gross looking. It looked like Dr. Frankenstein had gone berserk with a stapler. Even with the plastic and surgical tape in place to prevent it from getting wet she could still see the rank of staples that marched diagonally across his belly.

Oh, Chuck, how that must have hurt. No wonder you screamed. No one could have kept silent after such a near-fatal wound. She ran her fingers lightly over the healing incision and said, "Don't ever take off your vest again, you promised me, don't ever take it off, Chuck…"

"Sarah, I get it. Now, we have things to do and staring at the 'zipper' isn't making it heal any faster. I can handle the incision on my arm ok, but I'd appreciate a little help pulling off the tape on my stomach, though. Not a big one for self-induced pain." He was stoically avoiding looking at her below the level of her collarbones.

She laughed and picked at a corner of the tape and loosened it. "Ok, on 3, ready?" She felt him tense and giggled. "1…2…" She ripped the tape off in one quick motion.

"Hey, what happed to '3'?"

* * *

**Burbank  
9am**

Chuck gave Sarah directions to their destination even though she knew where it was. She'd followed him here the weekend after his wife's death. He came here directly from the mortuary and crematorium where he'd displayed a lot more courage than Devon Woodcomb.

She pulled up beside the gated wall and turned off the Porsche. "Want to come with me? I'd like to introduce you to someone."

"Chuck, I'm not exactly dressed for meeting someone important to you." She was wearing jeans, a Georgetown sweatshirt, half Wellingtons and a windbreaker. Her hair was in a loose ponytail high on her head.

"You look fine, Sarah, besides, this person doesn't give a damn what you look like. She already knows you. Don't ask me how, but she does. So, get your beautiful buns out of the bus and let's get this done. I'll need help escaping the bonze after I do my thing. They always have a virus or malware on their computers and I clean them up. Buddhists and porn, go figure."

"This is an expensive Porsche, not a bus, you dork. OK, but only because you'll need help getting up and then away. I need to tell you something, Chuck. I've been here before, back when we first met, I followed you after the surf incident to make sure you were ok. And I followed you here."

"Fine. Let's go. You know the drill then." He pulled himself out of the car before she could even get out. He wasn't angry; he just wanted to get this over with. He was uncomfortable introducing Sarah to his wife, afraid, actually. Sure, she'd 'seen' Sarah at the beach, told him she was the one who was 'out there' but Chuck didn't believe in spiritual stuff. He was a technical person and hadn't been to church since forever. He was certain he'd been hallucinating. Now, well, now he wasn't sure.

Sarah hurried to catch up with him. She grabbed his uninjured hand in hers and stopped him. "Are you angry with me? You were a mark then. A job. I didn't have to tell you, Chuck, but I did. Total honesty from both of us to each other."

He turned to her and gave her his goofy grin. "There aren't that many midnight blue Porsches with hot blonde supers spies running around Burbank in December, Sarah. I had you pegged from the mortuary. Your lens reflected the morning light even in the haze. You forget I played video games and learned early to watch the environment for things that didn't fit. I just didn't want to hurt your feelings that the 'geek from the BuyMore' caught the super spy. Now, if you're over that, can we please get this done before I retreat into my cowardly self and turn around?"

"Chuck, that's the second time you've called yourself a coward. Why? What makes you say that?"

"Four dead Customs Agents. You didn't see the look on their faces, the surviving team members. And the pregnant wife of one of them, she came to see me but I saw the look in her eyes. She wanted to ask me why I was alive and her husband was dead. I saw the accusations in her eyes, Sarah. That's why I'm only going to provide intel. You professionals can be the heroes. I'll just run away or something and distract you. But I'll use the intersect to give you info."

She just stared at him. She remembered "bad assed dude" said in admiration and the others who wanted to know how he did it when trained agents failed. She couldn't explain the wife but she'd bet he misread her. He was on heavy meds up to his eyeballs. He probably couldn't even feel himself breathe. And she remembered how they'd all come together and 'adopted' the girlfriend of 'one bad assed dude'.

"Chuck, why did you leave Casey when he told you not to?"

"Someone had to warn the agents at the second gangway. Someone had to stop that guy. I knew he was going to blow up a section of the ship and then create a biohazard."

"And why did you take off your vest, Chuck?"

"I told you all, it was slowing me down. I had to catch him."

"So when you dumped the vest, you ran away, then?

"No, I chased him below decks."

"And after he fired at you at missed, what did you do? Run away?"

"I fired back, but I missed, Sarah, I didn't even come close to him."

"And when his weapon malfunctioned and he hit you with it what did you do then?"

"I fired all my bullets at him and only hit him in the calf and he cut my arm while I was reloading."

"And did you run away?"

"No, I had to stop him. I was going to grab him and jump over the rail."

"And when that didn't work and he cut you open did you run away?"

"Uh, well, no, I just did what I knew best and threw him over the railing to the deck below."

"And then did you run away, Chuck?"

"I couldn't have. I fainted."

"So, you ran to warn the others but were too late. You dumped your vest because it was slowing you down. You stood toe-to-toe with a trained agent and defended yourself and killed him in spite of near-fatal wounds, right"

"Chuck, if I ever get in the shit again, I want to be surrounded by cowards like Chuck Bartowski. Got it, dumb ass? You're no coward. Untrained and maybe inept, but not a coward. If you ever say that again, I'll kick your ass, understand?"

He just sighed and walked toward the gate to ring the bell. She walked up beside him and said, "No one can say you're a coward, Charles Bartowski. You haven't seen the fucking shrine the Customs Service left for you. I almost killed one of Ellie's movers for daring to touch it. Look at it when we get home, you idiot. Until then, lose the attitude. I don't love cowards and I love you. You're the brilliant logic expert; figure it out. Now, let's see what it is that's spooked you so badly."

"I have to burn incense and make prayers for her safe journey into the next life. I just wanted her to see you. Don't look at me like I'm nuts. The night in the surf when I was waiting for the set she told me you were there. She told me to be patient. She called me 'bony-assed surfer boy' just like you did. It's too weird to be coincidental. And she told me you were 'the one' that night to replace her. I didn't even know you then and you didn't know me. Weird, huh?"

Sarah didn't mock things she didn't understand. And there had been too many 'coincidences' in this whole thing to be taken at face value. She'd never used the term 'bony ass' in her life until she met Bartowski and his butt was anything but bony.

Chuck met with the abbot and purchased incense and joss and began his recitation and then his introduction of Sarah Walker. "Lynn, this is Sarah. You told me about her the night I was surfing. You told me she was the one. And you called me the same 'pet name' she did. I know you're watching out for me up there on your way to the next life but do you think you could spare a moment or two for Ellie? Thanks, babe. I love you and I miss you. Take care of the little one."

And that was that. Sarah was rather subdued walking back to the car.

"Bothered you to hear me tell her I loved her, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's ok. You'll always love her just like I hope you'll always love me. You got a big heart, Bartowski, share the love."

"I can handle that. Now, I need to take a pill and sit down for a wee bit somewhere that isn't going 90 miles an hour. Think breakfast is in order?"

"Oh, God, yes. I thought you'd forgotten about ever eating again. I'm starving."

* * *

**Denney's Restaurant  
10:15am**

They stopped at a Denny's. Sarah got a huge breakfast while Chuck got a light plate and basically just pushed his food around. He ate some toast and some melon and called it quits. Sarah was instantly suspicious.

"Thought you were hungry, Chuck. God knows I was."

"Not really. Not much of an appetite. Just thinking about how life is so warped. Nothing bad about us, Sarah, so drop the guarded 'o, here's where he dumps me' look. I told you that you needed to be patient and I thought you'd agreed. Or was that just to get into my t-shirt and boxers that you appropriated?" He grinned to take any sting out of the words.

"You know, you shouldn't read minds, Chuck. You never know what stuff you might find."

"So, ready to go buy some furniture so we don't have to lie in bed all the time?" This was said deliberately loudly enough to get the attention of some blue-haired old ladies sitting at the big table. She had just made the day of at least 6 octogenarians even if it had to be repeated for one old lady with a hearing aid.

"I don't know, Sarah, the five of us had a really great time last night. You should have stayed awake." Two could play that game. The old ladies were really getting their groove on, even the one that had to have it explained to her by drawing on a place mat with a crayon.

"Oh, I know but the way you oh, oh, oooooohhhhhhhhh, eeeek, ooooh myyyy …."

"All right, no orgasm scene from "When Harry Met Sally". Stop it, Sarah. You win. I'm grossed out."

She laughed and Chuck threw some bills on the table and they left. When they walked past the octo-table the lady with the hearing aid piped up and said "she did what with how many other men?"

Chuck stopped, smirked at Sarah and leaned down and said into the lady's ear "Actually, it was just me, but she has a multiple personality disorder so it was me and all 5 of her."

That got the old bats tittering and Chuck walked out leading a thoroughly blushing Sarah Walker to her car.

She put her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a wet kiss sure to make the old bats go batty and was rewarded with both Chuck's hands cupping her ass cheeks and his tongue wandering around getting to know her mouth. He broke the kiss with a little suckling on her lower lip and walked over to the car. She stood there looking a little dazed.

"Don't play with fire, Agent Walker. I got all the matches…" He laughed at her expression and got into the car. She just stood there, stunned and wondering just how long she was going to be able to refrain from jumping his bones and having her way with him.

No assignment had ever been this much fun. She was already plotting her revenge for when they got to the furniture store. He might have the matches, but she had a flame thrower. Game on!

They never got to the furniture store. Casey called Walker and said the General wanted to have a conference call in 60 minutes.

Sarah and Chuck headed downtown to the CyberLogicals office. Casey would connect from the BuyMore.

**CyberLogicals llc  
January 19  
2pm**

Sarah was extremely pleased with what Chuck had done with the office space. The buildouts and the reception area were very professionally done. His office had the look of being occupied but not owned. There wasn't a single personal item in his office. No wall hangings, decorations, personal memorabilia. It was like someone with no shadow worked there. She vowed to change that.

She was stunned with her office. It was large and had a conference area and a small powder room. What touched her the most, however, was the simple nameplate mounted on the door. Sarah Walker, Vice President, Finance & Administration.

He had hoped she'd return when she'd given him no reason to believe so, only his own belief that she would return. He had been totally truthful with her. And he'd done this after that horrible scene at the Drake Hotel where she'd verbally emasculated him. And still he kept the faith.

The conference call itself was an op order. It had been decided that the Fulcrum hive housing the Southwest Coordinator of Fulcrum would be taken out and anyone on the premises would be eliminated if they resisted and detained if they surrendered.

The intersect would provide the intel regarding the building and it's environs. Since Bartowski was the only one who had actually infiltrated the facility, he would provide direction and intel from the safety of a remote operations center in a van near the building. Eight strike teams had been put together and the operation was schedule for 3am the following morning. The time was selected to reduce collateral damage and casualties from any workers at the 'cover' company.

"Mr. Bartowski, are you physically capable of handling this assignment? We don't want to risk your health but this is a critical operation."

"I'm mission capable, General. No problem. Sit in the van, relay visual cues and detail any flashes as well as provide infiltration routes and egress. Yes, General Beckman."

Director Graham voiced his own opinion. "Are you certain? It will do us no good to have you back in the hospital due to some unseen strain or problem. Better we go it alone than run that risk. The new intersect is a total disaster and you're the only game in town."

"I can do what is required. It's not all that hard to sit on my ass and direct others." No one but Sarah and Graham caught the sarcasm. Sarah just sighed while Graham covered a smirk with a cough. Beckman was totally unaware of the slam. She was too focused on the mission.

"We have a go, people. Mr. Bartowski, you and Agent Walker will man the surveillance and C&C van along with a security team. All other team members will be in the assault groups. Make it happen, people."

"Ah, General, Director, one thing."

"What might that one thing be, Mr. Bartowski?" Her glare was on full.

"There's a computer room where we planted some repeater units. If someone could either pull the disk packs or destroy the computer room it would significantly hamper their recovery. Also, there are several sat dishes and at least 2 microwave woofers on the smaller building. Taking those out would cripple their communications capabilities from the start."

"Good. We'll incorporate those targets into our op plan. Good luck."

Once the connection was broken, Sarah leaned down and put her arms around Chuck from behind, placing her cheek beside his.

"You want to tell mama why you're the only one to actually infiltrate the building, a known Fulcrum hive?" That was a near whisper.

"You want to tell me why you took such a foolish risk going in there alone?" This sentence what spoken in a normal speaking voice.

"You want to tell me where your damned handler was while you were waltzing around an enemy facility unarmed and untrained and unsupported?" The last sentence was practically shouted into his ear.

She spun his chair around and glared at him. "Well?"

"You remember I identified the Fulcrum Regional Coordinator at the Pink Pustule Party New Years' Eve? Well, the NSA bugged his luggage, car, everything and just followed the breadcrumbs to his office complex. I walked in pretending to be looking for office space, which wasn't a lie, really, and would stand up to scrutiny."

"The facilities manager was out so I walked around the complex until I saw some employees taking a break on the loading dock. I talked to one and found out there were two companies and all the other intel. I followed them inside and wandered around until I came to key-coded door and I reprogrammed it and got into the 2nd company, the real Fulcrum operation. I wandered around flashing, planted some repeater bugs in their computer room and then stole the shipping manifests and got out."

"It was a simple walk-around and even Casey thought I could do it. So I did and it went off fine. And any way, Sarah, if I hadn't done it then me and 2 million others would be dead right now. It was done and it's finished now. Please, I don't want to fight about this. It had to be done and I did it."

She knew he was right. But that didn't make it easier to hear about. "And where was Major Casey during this?"

"Casey was in the car, recording my info and my lapel cam. I was in earbud comm the whole time. I was prepared to go deeper but Casey pulled me out. No big deal, Sarah."

He infiltrated an enemy complex, got names, addresses, telephone numbers, shipping manifests, planted bugs, identified key members and it was 'no big deal'. She sighed.

"Chuck, it was a huge deal. Especially for a guy with no training. I'm really proud of you but mad as hell that Casey let you do it. He should have known better."

"Sarah, if Casey wanted me dead on that mission I'd be dead. I think he's already tried to off me once but messed up and got Lynn instead. A Burbank cop led me to a clipping about a Russian émigré being murdered because he was a snitch. A big buck snitch. The Russian was a turncoat agent for NSA in Russia. Casey was his control agent. Russian comes to L.A. Casey comes to L.A. My wife gets killed. His agent gets murdered the next night. I do not believe in coincidences, Sarah. My last name alone was on the dispatch board. Just 'Bartowski'. If it had been 'L. Bartowski' she'd still be alive. It's thin but it stands the test of logic. The cop is getting me the computer records of the ballistics tests. I have a record of Casey's already. I'll compare and then I'll kill him."

"Chuck, if he did what you suspect, he had his orders from Beckman. My uncle says it's all high-level politics. Beckman wants you dead so that the intersect becomes a tech project not a human intel project. Casey slipped up in conversation with me on New Year's Day in the hotel while you were out. He alluded to a second crack at you but that Beckman said to wait until the new intersect was up. Well, we now know from my uncle that it's toast. You're safe. Don't do anything to jeopardize that, please baby. We'll find a way to take care of Casey, but not right now. And you have to be clean with no possible connections."

"Sarah, you have to be clean too. I've got a 3rd party I can contact. Big time drug lord. He will do it for us. Trust me. Don't ask me, just trust me. If you love me like you say you do, trust me. I will have my revenge. I'll kill Beckman, too, or get her whacked. Just be patient. Promise me, Sarah, no bullshit. Promise me this or go back to being a CIA agent and ask for an immediate reassignment."

Sarah was stunned. He planned on killing the head of the NSA as well as a NSA agent. Murder them in revenge for an unproven allegation. Well, ok, if you add her comments with is info it looked bleak for Casey but to assassinate Beckman? And get away with it?

"So, either I let you conspire to kill a General in the service of the United States on almost no evidence or I can leave and you'll trust me not to tell my superiors about this? Is that the way you're playing this, Chuck? I go along or move along?"

"You don't really know me at all, Sarah. Ask Ellie why that spot on the beach is so special. Ask Morgan what happened in Middle School. Ask a whole bunch of social workers, damned do-gooders who tried to put me in foster care after our folks were out of the picture. Ask them all what happened when you push me into a corner and I push back."

"Good bye, Chuck. I can't be a party to this. I'll keep my silence unless it jeopardizes my uncle or myself. I won't see you again and if I do, I'll be that CIA agent you seem to have such a low opinion of."

* * *

She made it as far as her car before she totally broke down. She sat in the front seat of her car crying for the man she just left, the boy he'd been, the husband and father he might have been. But most of all she cried for herself and her damned pride. If the situation were reversed and it was she who was avenging him, she'd walk through the fires of Hell to accomplish her mission.

But he was doing it for her, his dead wife, and that she could not accept. She refused to recognize or acknowledge her jealousy of a dead woman. And worse, she knew she would betray him to the greater good if it proved necessary. His love was unconditional and uncompromising and constant. Hers apparently depended on the circumstances. His was real. Hers, self-serving and convenient.

In spite of everything she told him when she met him at his apartment after he returned from the hospital, in spite of the fact that she believed what she said to him was the truth, despite all that, she hadn't been honest. She hadn't committed.

It was like the plate of ham and eggs. The chicken was merely involved. The pig was committed.

She'd broken her word. She hadn't been totally honest. She was jealous. She should just turn around and go back and tell him why she was so damned upset. But she was stubborn. And willful. And used to getting what she wanted from a man. She drove back to his apartment to pack her stuff, contact her uncle and request immediate reassignment. If it didn't happen, she was prepared to quit. Either way she'd be in DC by 8am.

She called her uncle when she got back to the apartment.

"Graham, secure."

"Walker, secure. Uncle Art, I want out. I can't do this. Reassign me tonight. I don't care where or with whom, I just want out right now."

"No, Sarah, it's not going to happen. Not again. What did he do? Stand up to you? Give you a choice you couldn't handle? Asked you for a commitment, not just involvement, but a real commitment? He is the one for you, Sarah. You told me that. You told Cathy that. You believed that. So, what happened, baby girl? Tell me. Tell me like you used to tell me everything back when we first fostered you. Please, Sarah, you have too much to lose this time."

She told him everything, not leaving out a thing. She told him of her jealousy of a dead woman, of his demand. She told him that she realized his love was unconditional, while hers was superficial and shallow by comparison. She told him of his plans for vengeance, and how basically he had told her come along or move along. That she had to choose. And she did and now she wanted out.

"Sarah, you're a pathetic fucking little hypocrite. You talk the talk but the walk seems to be beyond you. I've done some checking on the man who has captured the heart of my baby girl. He was a hellion. Multiple arrests for assaults but never a conviction. Charges were always investigated and then dropped. Never a day in juvie hall. The only people who worried about Chuck Bartowski were those low lifes who preyed on the helpless and the weak. Bullies, gangbangers, street hoods, they all stepped aside for your boy. He even had a street name – Righteous Justice- can you believe that shit? The Crips gave it to him and they put out the word, you don't mess with Righteous Justice. It was like even the scum recognized and respected him."

He chuckled. "How he ever became a nerd and got into Stanford was a mystery. You know he was a year behind in school? He took a full time job to pay the rent on a ratty apartment after his dad disappeared and his sister got a college scholarship. Cut classes in the afternoons. Failed them, too. School board 'gooders came calling, never anyone home."

"Sarah, at one time there was suspicion that the father was sexually abusing the daughter. There was never any proof, of course, and back then the reporting rules we have today didn't exist. The investigation went no where and shortly thereafter the father disappeared."

"No money for room and board so she lived at home. Home was a nasty apartment in about the worst neighborhood in L.A. that wasn't ethnically or racially homogeneous.

He went to summer school every summer to catch up. Worked two jobs during the summers. Then dropped out of school for a year to pay for her to stay in school. Amazing young man. One of the teachers took a shine to him, got him interested in computers. Boy's a genius. Got a perfect math score on the SAT and taught himself calculus and took the AP exam. Amazing mind."

"Let me jump ahead a bit. His sister gets a full ride to medical school. A CIA recruiter spots the brother at her college graduation and for some reason does all the background I've just quoted and recommends him for review and recruitment. He wins a competitive scholarship to Stanford, a full ride, Sarah, one of only six given out each year. And I think the rest you know."

"John Casey is a dead man, Sarah. Count on it. He was following orders but the NSC did not approve the sanction. Diane Beckman is a snake. Being a general doesn't change that. It's a shield for her, that's all. She's ordered dozens of these, Sarah, dozens, all unapproved but done for the greater good as interpreted by the good General. Your young man is probably going to be murdered once a new intersect becomes functional. Yes, murdered. For no reason other than she can have it done and his existence is an inconvenience. An inconvenience, Sarah. After all he's done, without asking for squat in return."

There was a full minute of silence. Arthur Graham thought he knew his foster daughter but apparently he'd been wrong. Sighing, he started the paperwork email that would release Walker for immediate reassignment upon arrival in D.C.

"I don't know what to do, Uncle Art. I'm so confused."

"What do you want out of this, baby girl? What's your ultimate objective? Identify that and it's smooth sailing after that. You got to swallow that big mouthful of pride and go back to him. Beg him to take you back. Tell him what you told me and tell him what I've told you. He's still Righteous Justice at heart, Sarah. Just a little older and a lot wiser but still the same kid who protected the weak and helpless and took no prisoners.

Unless he's a total fool, he'll welcome you back with open arms, baby girl. And he is no one's fool. He'd have made a hell of an agent, Sarah. Just like someone else we both know"

"Why are you on his side, Uncle Art, can't you see my side at all?"

"Who recruited you, Sarah?"

"You did."

"Who do you think was the recruiting agent for your young man?"

"Thanks, Uncle Art. I'll see you around. Remember our deal, you'll tell me if the sanction is ordered?"

"My word, baby girl, my word."

* * *

**CyberLogicals **

'_Well, that didn't go well at all, Lynn. Apparently her love for me is conditional. I guess you were wrong, Lynn. Face it, you blew it. But I still love ya.' _

Chuck called a cab to pick him up. He didn't want to walk and he knew a cab was the only alternative. While he was waiting for the cab he pulled up his BugOut and made a few changes. He'd be going solo.

He'd made a bad mistake. A huge error. He never should have mentioned that spot on the beach. She would be like a little terrier worrying at it until she solved the riddle. He'd have to call Ellie and warn her that Sarah Walker was going to come calling. Shit. He let himself trust. Big mistake. Probably fatal. She would betray him. He could see it in her eyes when they'd quarreled. Well, Casey wasn't the only agent after him now.

He saw the headlights of the cab sweep across the front of the building. His ride was here. As a final swipe at his own self pity and poor judgment with a roar of anguish he ripped Sarah Walker's name plate from her office door and threw it a the lobby door almost hitting her.

"So, I guess this means you're firing me, too?"

"What do you want, Agent Walker? I've called a cab and it'll be here momentarily. I've got to get some sleep since I've got a mission at Oh Dark Thirty."

"I know. I've come to take you home, Chuck, if you'll have me?"

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
9pm**

"I didn't even realize I was holding back, Chuck. That I was saying the words but not feeling the feeling. Know what I mean? Stupid. It took some hard talking from Art to make me realize that asking you, without asking you, to quit loving Lynn was like asking you not to breathe. I was horribly jealous and I wanted to hurt you. To make you feel as bad as I felt. To make you feel the loss I was feeling when it never occurred to me that you were already feeling it. I guess Ellie's not the only one who needs a shrink."

"And then you asked me for a commitment and I balked. You're not the coward here, Chuck, I am. I can do anything physically but emotionally I'm almost always afraid. Afraid to commit to someone I love, adore and cherish is the ultimate cowardice. You asked me to face my fear and I couldn't. It was a humiliating experience for me. There you were, ready to take on the NSA, and all you were asking me to do was trust you."

"No, I was asking you to accept the fact that I was capable of murdering someone. A big leap for someone who does what you do. I guess we'll look into couples therapy, after all."

"Chuck, are we OK after all this? If you want me to move into Ellie's room I'll understand."

"What I want you to do is to quit talking and forgive yourself and let's take a nice nap. Set the alarm for 1 oh shit o'clock and we'll get up and get ready. I was ready to take you back when you came back to the office. Now, I love you and I'm getting close to the big "in" but it's going to take time. Accept it. I can't hurry it along. To do so would be a mistake that would end up costing us both a lot of sleep. I hate arguing with you Sarah when there's no possibility of make up sex."

"You bastard!"

End GreenEyedGirl11


	12. Echoes of a Silent Quack

GreenEyedGirl12

A/N I'm somewhere north of the Keys as I write this. Nice chop but hot as the back of Hell's furnace. Will probably spend the Fourth anchored in the Conch Republic. Depends on how crowded it is. Hope ya'll have a fine Independence Day.

_**The latter portion of this chapter deals with disgusting things that happen in real life. If you're a sensitive soul, skip from the bold warning to the bold line of Xs. **__The rest is PG13 I guess. Smaller bites.  


* * *

_**Casa Bartowski  
1am**

Sarah Walker's internal alarm clock woke her a few minutes before 1am to a profound sense of completeness. She couldn't put her finger on the 'why' but she knew the 'what'. And the 'who'. She was lying next to a man she wouldn't have even seen a year ago. He'd have been one of the scurrying masses who made up the greater good. And she would have been cutting through them like a sleek tiger shark in search of prey hiding within those masses.

She reached over and turned off the alarm and slipped out of bed to use the bathroom. She wanted to wake him so they could shower together and she could experience another heavenly shampoo but she knew better. Desire was an overwhelming emotion but she knew he wasn't ready for intimacy of the type she craved. Anticipation was good in this case. If she 'forced' herself on him his sense of guilt would set them back to near zero.

She ran into and out of the shower in just a few minutes. It wasn't a 'personal best' for her but damned close. Naked and wet Sarah cuddled next to Chuck and cooed "time to get up, Chuck" laughing at the double entendre. She knew that Nature would accomplish that fete without any help from her.

"No, Sarah, this is so not good. One of us has wet the bed and I know it wasn't me. Do I need to add Depends to the shopping list?" He didn't open his eyes. He knew what he'd see and he knew what he'd do and although every male instinct was shrieking in his ear and every nerve in contact with her skin was sending delicious telemetry to his brain he knew when he was beaten.

"OK, Sarah, this is cruel. Turn off your damned flamethrower and let me get up before I add my box to the Depends shopping list." Damn, she fought dirty. Who knew she'd wait and plot and then move in for the kill in retaliation for Denney's parking lot? This woman was deadly.

Still keeping his eyes closed he started to sit up and stopped, grunting in pain. Damn, he'd forgotten the muscles and staples.

"Sarah, can you please get me one of the little white pills from the bottle on the desk? I forgot about the zipper for a second and now it's reminding me a lot."

She'd seen the grimace and heard the grunt of pain. Her little foray into messing with him for yesterday hadn't gone as planned. Teasing Chuck was fun but hurting him was never her intention.

She bounced out of bed and hurried to get him his meds. It occurred to her that she hadn't seen him take any all day.

"And get that guilty look off your face, Sarah Walker. It was my own damned fault. Forgot my limitations." He took the pill from her and dry swallowed it. He rolled on his side, grunted, and then with her help, sat upright on the bed.

"You know, in 50 years you might be doing this for me again. Might want to rethink your commitments." The pain was receding whether from the pill or just sitting up, he didn't know. He saw the look on her face and noticed for the first time her lack of clothing.

"Walker, I love you but if you don't put some clothes on I think I'm going to make a fool out of myself. Now, if you would be so kind, madam, to assist me into an upright stance I shall endeavor to make it to the bathroom and then a quick shower. Sarah, please put clothes on, you're killing me here, babe."

She smirked but then realized the healthy extent of his embarrassment. Oh, she was so looking forward to him being healthy and older… at least 11 months older. Damn his sense of duty and honor. But it was one of the things she found most endearing. She wouldn't change it for the world.

* * *

**C&C Van  
Los Angeles**

The infiltration teams followed Chuck's initial route into the subsidiary company that housed the Fulcrum Southwest Operations Center.

"Casey, when you come to the first keypad enter 3300311 and it should pass you through." Chuck had keyed a backdoor bypass on his last visit. The manufacturer provided an override code and all you had to know was the install code. Thank you Burbank BuyMore.

"There will be photo ID badges in racks to your left and right. Collect them for identification. We'll have a picture ID of each employee although not all are Fulcrum."

Sarah watched Chuck maneuver the infiltration teams with speed and efficiency pointing out possible sources of intel as well as directing the strike team to the computer center. To the casual observer he appeared to be the one in command. Only Sarah noticed his hands trembling and the nervous bouncing of his knee. He wasn't afraid of a mistake, he was afraid of a surprise causing casualties among the teams.

The operation went off without a hitch. There were no friendly casualties, 7 employees of the data processing center had been detained and the offices of the Regional Commander had been looted and all computer equipment had been either recovered or destroyed using a stun gun. Hard drives zapped with a stun gum became useless, unreadable and could not be reprogrammed rendering the machine temporarily useless.

The disk packs and all storage media had been seized and all the contents of the center were in the hands of the NSA. The roof top commo equipment had been destroyed.

Strangely enough, there were no armed security guards in the facility unlike during the day.

There would be further discoveries once the teams got the equipment back to NSA labs.

Casey and his team were doing a final walk-through of the Regional Coordinator's office when his helmet cam picked up something on a bookcase that caught Chuck's eye. First, there was a map of the US and another of the Far East with notations but nothing triggered the intersect flash. Strange though.

"Casey, pan you camera up and to the left, to the 2nd shelf of the bookcase. See that second binder? Take it. Now pan down to the row of photos. See the 2nd one with the 3 guys in it? Isn't that the NK agent that uh-uh- died on the _Lope de Vega_?" Sarah could see the look on his face. He was having a flashback of sorts. She glanced around and then rested her hand on his bouncing knee. "It's OK, Chuck. Everything's fine now."

Casey studied the picture. "Could be. I didn't really take that good a look at his face. I was kinda fixed on the foot of stainless steel sticking out of his chest. I think the cleaners took photos of him, I'll check back with you. I think we're done here, Bartowski, unless something else catches your eye? You done gawking?"

"Yes. Bring them home. Good job." Casey just grunted but it sounded like a pleased grunt.  


* * *

The entire operation was completed by 6am and by 8am Sarah and Chuck were again sitting in Denney's and Sarah was wolfing down the biggest breakfast they had while Chuck seemed satisfied with pushing his eggs around the plate. Sarah was becoming concerned because in all the time she'd been with him he'd hardly eaten a thing. She wondered about contacting his doctor about that. Maybe he just didn't want to eat too much and feel pressure on his stomach? She had no idea but would call a CIA-sanctioned physician when they got home. Home. It had a nice ring to it.

"Chuck, if you're not too tired, want to see about some furniture? It can wait if you're tired. And maybe some food? And silverware, and pots, pans, dishes, stuff that you need to eat?" She brought up food to gauge his reaction. Not good.

"Yeah, we need all that. Wish we'd had more bridal showers or Ellie had been a little less vindictive." He smiled shyly at her. He loved to catch her off-guard to see her real reaction to things, not the schooled features of an agent. He wanted her to be herself around him, not a bodyguard/babysitter/bed warmer. He'd heard a few of the comments made about her and her 'duties' and it angered him to the point his hands were shaking. He had to learn to control his rage. It had always been his downfall. He'd almost hurt Sarah last night when he tore her nameplate off the door and threw it almost hitting her.

Sarah pinked up nicely when embarrassed and Chuck always seemed to be doing that. One of these days she'd get even with him.

"Food. Pizza, Beer, Toothpaste and deodorant, oh and some MANLY shampoo and soap. All the guys were looking at me like I might attack them or something."

Sarah giggled. "Major food groups there, Bartowski. And toothpaste is not a food it's a personal hygiene item. Add Tampax to the list also." Now it was his turn to blush.

"I surrender. Finish pigging out and let's roll, babe. The day is young and I'm wearing out fast. And I know you're tiring, too, Sarah. You get those little black shadows under your eyes and then the crow's feet start to appear and those wrinkles around the corners of you mouth and…Ouch! Damn. Quit pinching. Add nail clippers to the list."  


* * *

January flew by with a few more simple missions. On February 2, Sarah drove Chuck to the CIA-sanctioned clinic to have his staples removed and to undergo a final physical before releasing him from 'light duty'. Once released, she would start him on the physical therapy and training regimen recommended for injuries of his type.

She also wanted him to build up his stamina. He tired entirely too easily these days. And when he slept, he never moved and sometimes she would wake him just to be sure he hadn't lapsed into a coma. That annoyed him to no end but she finally explained that she was afraid and he didn't complain although it still annoyed him.

He continued with the pain pills as directed and still took the sleeping pills but was trying to cut back rather then frighten her.

The doctor came out and motioned for Sarah to walk with him. 'Oh, shit, this is not good.'

"Agent Walker, Mr. Bartowski's records indicate a normal weight of 185 and he's now at 153. Any problems with digestion? Throwing up or vomiting without cause or warning?"

"No, none of that. I'm with him pretty much 24/7 and I haven't seen anything like that. He sleeps like he's dead. He doesn't move and honestly, sometimes I wake him to be sure he's not in a coma. It's like he's dead."

"Has he been eating normally?"

"He just pushes his food around the plate and nibbles a little. Toast, eggs, and coffee are the most I've seen him eat at one time and he didn't finish those, just the coffee."

"Do you have his medications with you? I need to check for some adverse reactions and maybe run a few more blood tests." She gave him the pill containers and went back to find Chuck talking with the pretty receptionist who was trying to convince him to 'get together some evening and see what develops." She knew he had no interest whatsoever and was trying not to be rude but she decided to have some fun with him and the receptionist.

"Hey, honey, you want to invite her over for a 3-some? It's ok with me if you do. I guess you're bored so soon after the wedding…"

Chuck turned bright red and the receptionist glared at her. "It's not what you think, ma'am. We were just talking. I mean, really, that's just crude."

"Sarah, be nice to the young lady. She doesn't share your wicked sense of humor. Besides, look at her. She'd be burned out in the first couple of hours. I mean, really, babe, if _she's_ your type, I guess I can sleep on the couch, _again_." The receptionist just looked back and forth at them like they'd grown another head.

"Eeeeewwwww, you people are gross. And you're married? Why bother?" and left the desk and ran to the ladies' room.

"I can't believe you're jealous of her Sarah. I was trying to shine her off but she was persistent. Still, a 3-some? No way. You expect me to be all noble and look the other way while you indulge your fantasies? Gross is right. Shame on you, Agent Sarah Walker, shame on you."

"OK, I deserved that. The doctor wants to drink more blood, Chuck, so pony up the arm and let's get it done. He's waiting." Chuck blanched. She knew he hated needles. The tattoo must have really taxed his courage.

"Sarah, you don't really bat for both teams, do you? I mean it's fine if that's your preference, in fact, forget I asked. Don't ask, don't tell. I'm done talking. Your choices are your business. I got to see the vampire. Try and control yourself around the receptionist. I don't think she likes you all that much."

She vowed then and there that he would pay for his comments. Not a lot though. She'd missed playful Chuck.

The doctor motioned for Sarah to step into his office. Chuck was reading a magazine and half dozing. "Agent Walker, whoever prescribed these pills was either on them himself or careless as hell. These dosages and frequencies are totally out of line with accepted practice. I'm not one to criticize a fellow practitioner, but the son of a bitch should have his license revoked assuming he has one."

"These levels are making Agent Carmichael lethargic, depressed, and almost suicidal. I'm surprised there haven't been bouts of violent mood swings, crying jags and hallucinations. I'm recommending you trash these and make sure all of them are destroyed. And I'd file a complaint with the hospital and medical board if I were you. This is a criminal act and if it wasn't deliberate I'd be surprised. No physician could be so careless."

"Thanks, doctor. I'll file a complaint with my supervisor through channels. How long will it take for the effects to dissipate?"

"He should regain his appetite within a few days, his sleep habits will be a problem, however as will pronounced mood swings as his body chemistry adapts. He isn't addicted but I'd venture to guess he's developing the beginnings of a dependency. The muscle relaxants combined with the sleeping pills were a potent cocktail."

"Thanks. I'll keep an eye on him and let you know of any problems."

"Chuck, wake up. Let's go. Clean bill of health. You know what that means? Basic physical training will now commence."  


* * *

That night Sarah cuddled up next to Chuck. Even without a pill he was asleep in seconds, or so it seemed. She flicked on her bedside lamp and pulled up his t-shirt and looked at him, really looked at him, objectively and without the love filters. He had lost a lot of weight. You could count his ribs. And she hated to say it but 'bony ass' seemed to apply as well. She had let him down. She saw him every day and didn't notice the decline and didn't watch him eat or anything that a girlfriend or spouse would have done. Well, that was changing in the morning. She wanted him healthy.

Of course, the first night without the sleeping pill brought on a nightmare, a real doozy. Chuck started yelling and fighting with the bed clothes. He was thrashing around and his face was contorted in a rage Sarah had never seen on him before. She shook him and called to him but he was deep within the dream. Finally, in sheer desperation and panic, she ran to the bathroom and got a glass of water and threw it in his face.

He came up swinging and she reflexively rolled off the bed, hit the wall and stunned herself.

Out of the dream and awake he saw Sarah lying on the floor, dazed with her eyes closed. She wasn't unconscious, just stunned but he didn't know that. All he knew was that he had hurt her, however unintentionally, he had hurt her. He was still the violent man who should be kept away from polite society.

He bent over and scooped her up like she was a child and cradled her, not saying anything, just rocking her, his eyes closed and his mind several years away.

_**WARNING WARNING WARNING**_

_Ellie was screaming at her father to stop, that he was hurting her and a younger Chuck had rushed into the bedroom and pulled his drunken father off his nearly naked sister. He lost all control and smashed the drunken would-be rapist again and again in the face until he stopped trying to fight back; Ellie tried to grab his arms to stop him and unthinkingly, he turned and hit her squarely in the nose. The blood spurted and she held up her hand to catch it like some precious liquid. _

_He grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around his sister and hugged her telling her how sorry he was for not getting to her in time and that he'd hurt her. He promised her he'd never hurt another person again. Ever. _

_His father started crawling away and Chuck went over and helped him up and then told him in as mature a voice as a 15 year old could muster to leave and not come back. If he did, he would kill him. _

_That was the last time he saw his father._

_Ellie stopped her nose from bleeding and washed her face and hands, removing all traces of blood. She knew she'd have black eyes but it was a small price to pay compared to what her father had paid. Her brother was uncontrollably violent at times, but only when he saw someone weaker being threatened or hurt by someone stronger. Ellie knew her father would not be back. He knew his son would kill him if he did for what he'd done to his sister. Now she knew she had to stay in Los Angeles. If she left him alone, he'd finally take on someone a lot bigger or meaner and be killed. She vowed to watch over him until someone who loved him just as much would be with him and love him. The repeated abuse was over and she owed him for ending it._

"Chuck_?"_

"_Yeah, Ellie, I'm sorry. I tried to stop him but I was too late. But not tonight. Tonight it stops. I'm sorry I hit you. It was an accident. I hit him, Ellie, I hit him and hit him and when I couldn't hit him anymore I told him to leave and not come back. Ellie, if he comes back, I'll kill him. Fucking rapist."_

"Chuck, it's Sarah, Sarah Walker, Chuck, please Chuck, please talk to me. Oh, Chuck, please…" She could tell he was still far away and was terrified he couldn't find his way back. 'Oh, God, how old was he, 15, 16, and to have to beat his father to protect his sister. Oh, Chuck, please come back, please?_"_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.**

Chuck looked down at the woman he was cradling. It wasn't Ellie. He wasn't 15 and he hadn't almost killed his father. It was a flashback like none he'd ever experienced before. He was glad Ellie was gone. She didn't need to be reminded of that night or what followed. She'd borne enough of a burden.

"Sarah, I think you'd better go, for your own safety. I don't know what's wrong but you have to leave me, please, Sarah, I –I-I can't deal with this. I hurt you and I'm sorry. I was dreaming and it was so real, Sarah."

"Shh, shhh, it's OK, Chuck. It's the pills. The medication. You're going through withdrawal. None of it's real, Chuck, you're hallucinating. Shh, baby, just let me take care of you. I love you and you didn't hurt me, I fell off the damned bed when you reacted to the glass of water in the face. My own fault, Chuck, not yours. Shhhh, come back to bed, sweetie, nothing happened. I'm OK and you're going to be. Now hush, baby, and come back to bed. Just hold me and everything will be all right, you'll see…"

But it was Sarah Walker who did the holding. She brought Chuck's head to her breast and wrapped her arms around him and crooned nonsense syllables until he'd relaxed and fallen to sleep again. While Chuck slept in her arms, her mind was racing through the facts she'd learned and the history of the man her uncle had called Righteous Justice.

Chuck's father had either raped or almost raped his sister, Ellie. Chuck had stopped him either during or after the rape and had beaten the shit out of his drunken father.

His sister tried to stop him and he'd hit her and he'd reacted badly.

He told his father to leave and not come back. He told him he'd kill him if he did.

If the math was right, Chuck had been 15 years old. Welcome to adulthood, Chuck.

This explained the connection the two shared. The bond that was only broken after Ellie followed her father's footsteps and 'raped and ruined' every relationship she ever had and descended into the booze pool.

A therapist could retire on the billings from these two. She decided she would call Ellie Bartowski in the morning and find out the truth. Was Chuck hallucinating or had he almost killed his father? Or did he really kill him and repressed the memory? It would wait until morning.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
7am**

Sarah Walker was enjoying the feel of her man wrapped securely in her arms peacefully snoring. One hand had wandered in his sleep under her t-shirt and cupped her breast and held it gently, occasionally giving it a tiny squeeze. She didn't know what he was dreaming about but it had to be an improvement over last evening's bout.

He had scared the crap out of her. If this was withdrawal for a 'slight beginning dependency' she'd hate to see withdrawal from full-blown addiction.

For now, though, she was immensely content to just lie there and feel like she hadn't felt in a long time.

She had a hard task ahead of her. She had to deceive her man and contact his sister and find out how she could help him. The risk was enormous but he was worth it.

Since Chuck was so moody and restless after the previous night's episode, she told him to get on his bike and go to the beach. He was driving her crazy and although she loved him to death she needed some time away from him to contact Ellie. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Chuck could take a hint. Especially when it was from a determined blonde who had put up with so much the previous night. He felt guilty but knew it was not his fault. A real first. No guilt, just moods and nerves. The beach was a cool idea.

Sarah hoped that Ellie had kept the same cell number when she moved or she would be faced with the difficult task of finding her. Luckily, she did.

"This is Dr. Bartowski."

"Ellie, it's Sarah Walker calling from Los Angeles. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, no, is any thing wrong? Is my brother all right?"

"Nothing's really wrong but he's not OK. He was mugged in January and took a slice to the forearm and a transverse laceration to the lower abdomen that required more than 20 staples and extensive surgery to repair but he's been given a clean bill of health and is in physical therapy. The reason I'm calling is that the quack that prescribed the muscle relaxants and sleeping aids exceeded the dosage and Chuck's developed the beginnings of a dependency but nothing we can't handle together."

Ellie's Chuck senses were in full gear. "What was he doing when he was mugged? Did he provoke it, Sarah? Did he interfere in a robbery or something? It's important that I know the situation."

'_I'll bet it is, Ellie. You want to know if Righteous Justice is back.'_ "No, we had been out to dinner and some guys grabbed us in the parking lot and Chuck pushed me out of the way and got slashed for his trouble. It was a straight-forward mugging attempt, that's what the cops said. They said the area was a bad spot for muggings."

"So he's all right? No strange mood swings or anything like that?"

"Yeah, big mood swings. The doctor said it was to be expected. He said the combination of the two drugs might have been lethal over time. But he's getting clean, now. The doctor is monitoring him and it's not like he's addicted, Ellie. But he has such vivid nightmares about his father and you. It's frightening."

"Well, Miss Walker, I'm glad you're taking an interest. Please keep me advised of any changes. Thank you for calling. I have an appointment coming in and I can't keep them waiting. Good bye."

'_She ran when the subject turned to Chuck's father and her. Either she talks to me via cell or she talks in person. I won't give her a choice. ' _

She hit redial. "Sarah, I told you I have an appoint…"

"Don't you dare hang up on me again. Is he reliving an actual experience or is it just a hallucination? It's important that his doctor know one way or the other. This is your brother we're talking about here, Ellie, not some faceless patient. It's Chuck."

"Did he tell you he broke down the locked door to my room and pulled my father off me and beat the crap out of him? Did he tell you that, Sarah? Did he tell you my own father had been sexually assaulting me for years and my mother had hidden it, ignored it, and then left? Did he tell you that he threatened to kill my father? If he did, I wish to God I could say he was lying but he wasn't. He saved me that night. He'd beaten me into submission and Chuck rescued me."

"Jesus, Ellie. I'm so sorry but I needed to know. Chuck's very fragile right now and the doctor needed to know how to proceed. Thank you, Ellie, that took great courage. I'm sorry to have upset you. I'll not mention this conversation to Chuck or that I've spoken with you. Thank you, Ellie. For Chuck."

"You love him, don't you? I can tell. You and Lynn are, were, I don't what the word is; there are so many similarities. Thank you for watching out for him. Don't let him throw himself away for something worthless. Talk to him and get him to open up. Just listen to him. Lynn did. And he'll never leave you, Sarah, never. He's not wired that way. You'll leave him, but he'll never leave you. Lynn said you'd be the One."

"I don't intend on leaving him, Ellie. He's mine as soon as his mourning period is over. He loves me and someday he may be in love with me but I'll take what I have until he's ready to give more."

"She gave me two letters that night. I'll mail you the other one. It's for you, anyway. She knew, she had a premonition. Spooky lady sometimes but so good for my brother. Be good to him Sarah, be good _for_ him. Call me if you need anything. Good bye."

Chuck had chilled at the beach and felt a lot better. Sarah had been right again. He needed to get out and just be himself for a bit. He'd also come up with a way to earn an income exclusive of the money the CIA had fronted him for his process. Mentally, he was halfway through the outline and he knew the code would flow from his fingers when he finally started writing the game.

Sarah was out when he got back. There was a note on the new dining room table explaining that he should just drink a beer or two and she'd be back before he knew it. He thought about going over the office but really there was nothing he could do there that he couldn't do here.

He decided to take a nap and hoped he would just sleep, not dream. He never wanted a repeat of last night's dream.

Sarah walked in to the apartment after checking that Chuck's cycle was parked in its usual spot and that he was home. She'd driven over to revisit the CIA physician and recount what had happened the previous night as well as the confirmation she'd received this morning from his sister. He'd given her the names of several sanctioned therapists for 'couples therapy'.

She found her boyfriend crashed on the bed, in boxers and t-shirt as usual. The doctor had told her to expect intermittent sleep patterns to emerge before leveling out to 'normal'. So napping irregularly was expected and not to be concerned about.

She resisted joining him. The snuggle bug was loose in her mind but she wanted to discuss the idea of couples therapy with Chuck seriously, not be subject to his disgusting ability to turn the subject elsewhere when they were touching anyplace on her body. The power of just a fingertip…crazy.

"Hey, Chuck? Let's go, babe. Rise and shine." Nothing. He must still be tired from last evening. The doctor told her that this was a critical time and the sooner they talked with a competent professional, the better.

So in a low and sexy sing-song voice she cooed in his ear "Chuuuuuck, c'mon, big boy, let's wake up and…"

His arms shot up and grabbed her upper arms and tossed her onto the bed beside him. He then proceeded to kiss her breathless and whisper "Sarah Walker, I think we need to consider couples therapy. What do you say? I need you to know some things that I just can't tell you right now. It's not a trust issue, it's more like humiliation. Think about it, babe. That's all I ask. Maybe someone guiding us through the minefields would be a good thing."

End GreenEyedGirl12

Armor-Plated-Rat


	13. General Director ho in tow

GreenEyedGirl13

_A/N: In Key West. Crowded. Any damned thing that floats is packed in. Thank the sea gods that Starbuck's still has free WiFi.__OK, NickyR part of this was written with you in mind since you seem to enjoy steam baths. The rest is just what fell out of the fingertips.  
Have a safe 4th and don't put your eye out. I just read the traffic. Must be losing my touch. And no pissy reviews? I mean c'mon, haters, where's your venom, your vitriol, your sarcasm and complaining?_

_I don't get no respect. No updates for a bit. I might have a change of direction. I have two months to kill. Might want to check out Antigua.  
_

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
Key West FL  


* * *

_

**CyberLogicals llc  
February 23  
10am**

Chuck and Sarah sat in the comfortable conference area in her office preparing for a teleconference with the Director and General. The contractor working on the Castle installation had found several problems once the excavation below the company foundation had started, something to do with 'strata-shifting' and 'fault line transients' and a lot of other mumbo-geologist and the necessary changes had added two months to the construction. Sarah handled the contractor. Chuck had lost patience with the man and now refused to deal with him.

Chuck was reviewing the briefing package that had been emailed to them earlier. He knew the key figure in today's briefing. He'd never met him, never seen a current photograph until now but he knew this man. This would be a very interesting meeting.

Sarah was looking at the briefing package but was really miles away.

* * *

_Monday had been their second "couples therapy" session and Chuck had suddenly asked the therapist if this was "couples therapy" or a cover for "let's find out how screwed up our asset is?" therapy. _

_The therapist was a fifty-something thin woman with her hair pulled back into a severe bun. She had not smiled or displayed anything other than a cold professionally austere countenance. Some people might find this intimidating. Chuck thought it was funny._

"_Which do you think it is, Mr. Bartowski?" Answering a question with a question. Pushing him a little bit too early in the day. "Well, considering who's picking up the tab for this, I'd say the latter." He looked at her in smug satisfaction. _

"_Miss Walker is paying for these sessions, Mr. Bartowski. I took on these sessions as a favor to the daughter of Arthur Graham. I have no idea whether the government will see fit to reimburse her. Nor do I think she cares. How does that make you feel now, Mr. Bartowski?_

"_Sorry, Sarah. We'll split the cost."_

"_Chuck, let's talk about it later at home."_

"_So, Mr. Bartowski, how do you feel about Miss Walker? Do you resent her arranging these sessions?"_

"_NO, I don't resent her for this. I asked her to do this with me which is why I'm a little pissed that she's paying for the whole thing. I'm the one with the problems, not her. Sarah's, well, she doesn't have any problems. She always says the right thing, always knows what to do. She sleeps at night. I know because sometimes I just lay awake and watch her sleep, so peaceful and sound. And she makes these little trilling snores sometimes and then smiles in her sleep. I call them her 'sleep giggles'."_

"_But how do you feel about Miss Walker. You were in a happy marriage until 3 months ago when your wife of less than a year was killed in an accident. Your pregnant wife, I believe. And yet here you are, in a relationship with another woman so soon afterwards? One might question your commitment to either one based on these facts. So, I'll ask again, how do you feel about Miss Walker?"_

"_I – I- I love her. I'm not in love with her but I hope, no I know, that will come. I know it will. She is so much like Lynn. She's not a replacement, she's another person entirely but one I can love and do love. More than that, I trust her. And I hope she trusts me. I – I – look; I know things about her she doesn't know I know. Things that, well, I love her in spite of those things and also because of those things. She's, she's everything I'm not and everything I should be. I can't do details, it's classified beyond __**her **__pay grade."_

"_So, you have replaced your dead wife with Miss Walker. And how long will it take you to replace her when she's gone? Because, really, Mr. Bartowski, are you really so naive as to believe that once your utility is over that she'll remain? Do you really believe you're the only asset ever to fall in love with his handler?"_

_Sarah had sat there quietly, an observer, cringing at times like a witness to a beautiful car wreck you don't want to see but you can't tear your eyes away from, either._

_She turned and looked at him. His eyes were full of unshed tears and she could almost hear the muscles of his heart tear as the therapist ripped it from his chest. She'd warned her that this session would be brutal for both of them but utterly necessary if the trust issue was to be resolved successfully. But she'd had no idea how this woman would shred Chuck's heart and soul. _

"_You bitch! You're supposed to be helping us not destroying us. How can you call yourself a caring professional when it's so obvious you revel in the power you wield to destroy others."_

"_Chuck, I'm sorry. This therapist is as bad as the quack that gave you the meds. We're outta here. We'll find someone who will listen and not judge. Are there no competent practitioners anywhere in California? You listen to me, doctor, you're off the agency list as of this second. You don't deserve the title. My God, you actually take money for raping people's minds?"_

_She grabbed Chuck's hand, squeezed it, and nodded toward the door. Chuck looked at the woman, tilted his head from one side to the other quizzically and finally sighed and said "Sarah, I don't understand this at all. On one wall is a diploma and on the other is a Board Certification. I thought you said the Agency used competent support staff?"_

_They left laughing. It wasn't that funny but at least they were out of there relatively intact. Still holding hands the walked to her car._

"_Sarah, what she asked about a commitment, it was a legitimate question. How can you believe anything I bring to the relationship when my wife has been dead less than 3 months and I'm already involved with someone else? I wouldn't believe me, so how can you? But I meant what I said about you, Sarah, you are a completely separate person not a replacement but another complete person."_

"_Chuck, it's because I know you. I don't know all the facts but I do know you, the person. That's enough for me. Miracles happen and maybe me being here assigned to you was a way regaining life's balance. She shouldn't have died. You shouldn't have been left alone. You shouldn't have had the intersect rammed into your brain but all that happened. May be this is just God posting an adjustment to the balance sheet of Chuck Bartowski. Whatever it is, I'm glad of it. But you're avoiding the other questions, Chuck, so ask."_

"_Maybe, Sarah, maybe I'm satisfied with how I've already answered them in my own mind. It doesn't matter. You told me your intentions, Sarah. Did you lie?"_

"_No, I meant everything I've said."_

"_Then the matter is settled." _

"_But Chuck, you're not the first asset I've handled to develop feelings for me. You're just the only one I had the feelings for before I was assigned. But we haven't gotten anywhere on your situation with Ellie and your father. That's what we both hoped to do, right?"_

"_Well, not exactly. I just wanted to remove the landmines in our way. Lynn and I had pretty smooth sailing but you bring a whole different set of experiences to the table and honestly, sometimes you scare the shit out of me, Sarah Walker. And that's no lie."_

"_Sleep giggles, Bartowski? I mean, honestly, that was so lame. Cute, but lame."_

"_Well, I surely didn't want her to know how you fart in your sleep. Long, drawn out things that…Ouch. Damn it Walker, cut those nails."_

"_I prefer the sleep giggles after all. They're cute. So you really watch me sleep? That kind of creeps me out there, Chuck."_

"_Really? I'm not the one who sleeps with the knives under her pillow."  
_

Sarah had to smile. Chuck had come out of the second session a little roughed up but more confident that he had seemed before. At least on personal issues. They hadn't talked at all about the Ellie issue and she didn't know when they would have time to discuss it thoroughly and without interruption.

That night when they'd gone back to the apartment Sarah had a letter from Ellie. She briefly told her the letter enclosed was from Lynn for Sarah.

Sarah excused herself and went into the bathroom while Chuck mutilated something for dinner. Neither of them could really cook at all so dinner was always a great adventure unless they went out for take out… usually after dinner.

She sat on the closed commode and read the letter from Chuck's wife Lynn. There was no salutation just the body of the letter.

'_If you are reading this letter (and Ellie, you'd better not be reading this) then I am gone and my husband Chuck is in deep trouble. He will carry out my wishes to the letter but I am afraid that it will not be enough to keep him out of the dark places my death will drive him to. _

_Ellie will know when the right woman for my Chuck comes into his life. She and I share a sixth sense about my husband. I do because I love him, and she out of an obligation to her brother and because of her lost daughter. _

_You are the one who will stand along side him for the remainder of his days. I have seen it and it has also been foretold by an old amah in Chinatown. I'm as American as you but I respect and honor the traditions of my mother's ancestors. Tell my beloved round eye that he has mourned enough. It is time to live again._

_You, with your blue eyes and long blonde hair and my Chuck will have beautiful children.'_

She debated showing it to Chuck and finally, after a late dinner of Thai from a local restaurant, she handed him the letter. She had no idea how he'd react. It was almost unacceptable that his wife would know her or that Ellie would call her 'the One'.

He read the letter and closed his eyes. He sighed and read the letter again. He looked at her and said "Ellie got pregnant and she had an abortion. We buried her daughter deep under the sand at the beach. It really wasn't a body, you know? Just a bunch of tissue in a biological waste bag they were going to throw away or burn. How we treat our children sometimes…"

"It was the one place we knew we would always be with her in spirit. Ellie was only 2 months along but an incestuous birth carried too much risk. That's the real reason behind her behavior. Guilt and fear. It's why she avoids OB/GYN rotations and does Trauma care. You're the only other human being who knows this, Sarah, or will know it, understand?"

She nodded. "Beautiful children, Chuck?" She had tears in her eyes.

"How could they not be with you for a mother? Silly little woman." He wasn't smiling, though. He was lost in thought. She knew how the wheels turned when he was thinking.

That night Chuck rode out to the beach alone. To think. Sarah understood although she really wanted to be close to him tonight. This had been an emotional day for the both of them. She felt neither should be alone for long.

He got back about 10 and stripped off his clothes and walked to the shower.

'_Damn, he's really in a funk. I thought getting out would help. He's never just peeled them off in front of me. He must be in one of those dark places Lynn talked about. Well, I'll just have to bring him back into the light.'_

Chuck took his time in the shower. Lynn's letter had really rattled his cage. 'Blue eyes and long blonde hair'. Damn. He'd never dated a blonde. Not that he believed that crap about dumb blondes, he'd just never been attracted to them. Not his type. Well, one in particular was definitely his type.

'_Damn it, Lynn, why couldn't you just have left things alone. We were moving along, slowly but that's the way we did it, baby girl. Now you've raised her expectations. I don't think I'm ready to let go yet.'_

He shaved and brushed his teeth and finally felt human again. The beach had not proven to be his sanctuary as it had been in the past. Not when he was there alone. It was just another place now when he was alone.

This place had become his sanctuary.

He walked down the hall, checked that the doors were locked and then walked into the bedroom and slipped between the sheets. Sarah was lying on her side with her back to him in the middle of 'their side'. The middle was 'theirs' and then there was 'her side' and 'his side'.

This was crap. He needed to talk, to feel her and to let her know that nothing had changed. It was all tradition. That's all. The blonde hair and blue eyes, that was just a fluke, nothing more. It had to be.

He scooted over until his chest was flush with her back and slipped his left arm under her neck and reached over and ran his hand down her arm until he found her hand and held it.

"Sarah, the beach was just another place tonight. Cold and windy because I was alone and you weren't there. It's only special when you're there with me. So, don't be mad. I think we've had enough 'mad' for a long while."

"I'm not mad, Chuck. I'm scared. The letter, she did everything but call me by name, Chuck."

"That's probably because you change it so damned often, Olivia, Cynthia, Magdalena, Rachel, Jackie, Oswald, Eva, Linda, Pamela, Sharon, Constance, Sarah. I like Sarah the best. What's with 'Oswald'? You weren't cross-dressing were you?"

She rolled over into his arms, hers around his neck. She kissed him slowly, sucking on his lower lip and letting her tongue tickle it. Then she buried her face in his neck and said, "Do you really think we'll have beautiful children or are you just agreeing out of a sense of obligation?"

"I think we'll have beautiful children because they'll all be girls and look just like their mom, whatshername. I love you, Sarah Walker. Aww, don't do that, Sarah, don't cry. I'm sorry. Please, what's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing, beloved round eye, those are tears of joy. You've mourned enough, Chuck. That's what Lynn said in the letter and I think she probably knows more than we do. Long blonde hair and blue eyes. Definitely freaky, Chuck."

"Especially since you told Ellie I was attractive but not your type. So what exactly _is_ your type? Just curious of possible competition in the future." He rolled over onto his back and draped her over him. He nibbled at her ear delighting in her shudders and the goose bumps that rose all over her bare skin.

"Cold, m'love?"

"No, you bastard, turned on. Y'know what I really want to do, Chuck, right this minute if we can find the music?"

"No, but I'm almost afraid to ask."

"I want to dance the Tango naked with you. In the living room, down the hall, all over the apartment. I want to feel like you made me feel New Years Eve. When we were kissing and the Arabs passed us and you put your hand on the inside of my thigh and lazily drew your fingers up my thigh, oh my God, then you traced little patterns with the tips of your fingers. I was so wet for you, Chuck. And then when you moved up my thigh and I felt you fumbling with the knife holster I thought I would die but then you handed me a knife, then another… I almost stabbed you with it. You had me so turned on, Chuck."

"I know. Your scent changed. It was incredible. Like the perfume of the gods. But we had a mission, Agent Walker."

"We don't have one tonight. Tonight it's just Chuck and Sarah and no clothes between us and oh, God, find the damned music, Chuck."

He whispered softly into her ear as he traced the outline with the tip of his tongue and sucked the lobe into his mouth and played with it with his lips and tongue, "I have the tango on my iPod. But you have to let go, Sarah, I can't get the music with you clutching me."

He ran his fingertips down her back and lightly traced his name on her cheeks. She was shivering and he decided he'd better get the Tango track on his dock, crank up the speakers and send her to the edge until she begged him to stop.

He set the volume so it could be heard throughout the apartment but wouldn't freak out the neighbors. He reached down and pulled her to him and led her to the living room.

By the time the first track was done she was perspiring slightly and her arms were quivering. When he leaned down and ran his tongue from the hollow of her neck to her ear, she moaned and he knew it was time.

He led her back to the bedroom, kicked the track to Revel's Bolero and began driving her insane in earnest. There wasn't a place on her body that didn't have an intimate relationship with either his fingers or his lips and tongue. When he pulled her t-shirt over her head he captured her wrists and held her arms over her head and placed a line of kisses from her jaw to her right breast. He licked the nipple and blew across it causing it to peak and harden. Her gasp and moan were music to his ears.

Her scent of arousal was incredible and he increased his efforts to take her time and time again to the brink of ecstasy but just short of a climax.

Sarah was in torment and ecstasy. One more kiss, one more lick, one more stroke of his finger and she'd have her release but he kept her hovering on the brink until she begged him to take her.

When he finally joined with her she laughed and cried and called his name. His mourning was over.

In the morning he woke her with intimate kisses and coffee. "I have a favor to ask you, Chuck."

"Just ask, Sarah"

"Carry me to the bathroom. I think I've turned to goo and my legs are like jelly. I need the bathroom and a shower. And I need my hair washed, please? I'm sure I can't walk, Chuck. You'll have to carry me around for everyone to see how you've ruined me for any other man."

"Pouring it on kind of thick, aren't you, Sarah?"

"Yeah, well I'm the one still having aftershocks, Mr. Richter? Now, please, baby, help an old girl out of bed and down the hall. After all, I am a lot older than you."

He was tempted to scoop her up and carry her but his own legs were not the steadiest and he was feeling the twinge of muscles not used in a bit.

"I'll swing by a home health and pick you up a walker, Walker." And he _was_ quite a bit younger than her, eight whole months.

* * *

Sarah shook her head as if clearing cobwebs but in reality she wanted to restore some semblance of professionalism. Those memories of the previous night would always be with her, just a short thought away. And she could always retreat there in times of great stress. She looked over at the source of those memories and wondered for the hundredth time how on earth she'd won the man-lotto. She grinned. Talking more in Bartowskiisms now than ever before. Sleep giggles…she almost laughed aloud.

Chuck reached over and took her legal pad and wrote in his near impossible chicken scratch: 'Why are all the intersect files that deal with Fulcrum submitted by the CIA and none of the NSA files deal with Fulcrum?'

She looked at him and shrugged her shoulders.

He wrote 'Sarah, go to the bathroom, call Art, ask him before meeting. Answer asap'

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. 'Critters in your office. Nasties put here by u-no-hu. Do it!'

She mumbled something then said "Too much coffee, Chuck. Don't start without me".

He continued to doodle a glyph that matched the one on his chest. Life was about to get interesting. Just then the screen lit with the NSA logo and General Beckman appeared at her desk as usual.

"Mr. Bartowski, where is Agent Walker? It appears as though the CIA is developing a penchant for tardiness. Director Graham is finishing up another matter and will be here momentarily, I'm sure."

They discussed the progress on the Castle construction. Both Beckman and Chuck were in agreement. No contractor should take this long to complete a simple excavation and emplacement of a pre-fab Castle unit. An investigation was certainly warranted.

Beckman was about to move on to the main agenda when Walker and Graham both appeared and joined the conference.

"Now that we're all here, what can the intersect tell us about the man in the photo?"

"The intersect can tell you nothing at all, General.

She glanced at him, almost anticipating his response. "This man is a key provider to the drug trade on the west coast originating in the Orient. He's flying in this afternoon from Taipei and attending a meeting with others in Los Angeles. We believe there is to be 'meeting of the minds' of the distribution network. You are to infiltrate the facility where the meeting will be held and identify as many of the participants as possible for later arrest by LEOs and the DEA.

"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Bartowski. Surely there is some shred of information in the intersect to assist us?"

"There is no information on Colonel General Li Xhiao Peng. Not even his name. And certainly no reference to his connections to the White Lotus Tong here in Southern California. Or his extensive networks of distributors and intelligence collectors throughout southeast Asia as well as the PRC. Or his rather peculiar arrangement with a shadow American intelligence organization named Fulcrum."

Chuck wrote on his pad for Sarah to read: 'No matter what happens, I love you.'

"Bartowski, how could you possibly know these things? There's nothing about any of that in the intersect."

"Nope, it's all right here, though, General," he said pointing to his head. "The Colonel General had a daughter who married an American serviceman, although I believe he was a CIA agent working to locate heroin distributors and establish alternate 'distribution' directly into the arms of the local authorities."

"He married the General's daughter and came home and got out of the CIA. They had a daughter. I married the daughter. The General is my grandfather by marriage."

"He and I have written a lot of letters to each other since her passing. I give them to the local Tong leader, a calligrapher, and she translates them and sends them on to him. She does the same thing with his letters to me. Sometimes they get out of order between here and there but it works."

"The old gentleman may be 88 but his mind is still 26. Between the two of us we managed to map out the entire international network of Fulcrum operational locations in the fareast and south Pacific, including senior members of what they call the Worldwide Directorate. Not in the PRC, though. The PRC still operates as if it's 1950 and they're still at war with Chiang's Army of the Southern Provinces. But I'm sure you already knew that, General."

"What tipped me was a map on the wall of the Coordinator's office with notations regarding other offices. I didn't flash on it although I did on the coordinator New Years Eve. Got me to thinking and reviewing. NO NSA updates were posted to the Intersect 30 days after your appointment as project coordinator. Imagine that. I wonder where all that data could have gone? "

Arthur Graham looked like a kid on Christmas morning with his look of gleeful anticipation. He made a motion towards someone off screen and three suits appeared. Graham stood and looked down at a white-faced Diane Beckman.

"General, you need to go with these men. I'll be along shortly to discuss some events or rather lack of events in the recent past. Don't make a scene, Diane, you're a General."

Chuck looked over at Sarah with a smirk. "Was it as good for you, Agent Walker, as it was for me?" And he laughed. Sarah just shook her head and wondered if anything would ever go according to plan in her life. With the introduction of super-Nerd into her life, things went south quickly. But it was never dull and she anticipated interesting missions in the future. And she loved to Tango.

Arthur Graham looked into his camera and sighed. "That was not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be. Twenty-five years of honorable service to her country and now she's reduced to a prisoner. Well, I think tonight's mission should proceed. Silent infiltration by teams with the Intersect, that's you, Chuck, reporting any cam flashes. Probably safer all around. Questions?"

Chuck looked at Sarah and pointed again to the note he wrote before Beckman's removal.

"Director, I think a direct approach would be more profitable. I want to go in alone and meet with Lynn's grandfather. I may be able to get him to 'turn into the light' and support our side. I figure we have nothing to lose."

"Just your life and the intersect, Chuck. I don't think going in alone is a good idea. You aren't trained to handle yourself and if things went bad, I couldn't get to you in time to help. Not going to happen, Director. He's too valuable to risk on the _possibility_ of a positive outcome."

"I want to meet Lynn's grandfather. Forget the CIA/NSA/Fulcrum involvement. I'll go as Chuck Bartowski, normal American male. Very few people know about the existence of the intersect and only a handful know it's in my head. Probably half those people are participants in this conference. Where's the risk? What's the payoff potential? Enormous. I say we do it."

Chuck looked over at her. Here's where he would lose her. "Sarah, would your opinion be the same if we weren't lovers hoping for a future together? – If we were just what we should be, handler and asset?"

Director Graham cleared his throat in a vain attempt to regain control of the meeting. These two formed a devastating partnership. The gestalt was like nothing he'd ever seen in the Agency. The kid had just lit Sarah Walker's fuse, a short fuse. And the explosion would be nuclear. "Mr. Bartowski, perhaps we should discuss this later?" _Assuming you're alive later. I think my baby girl is about to put her foot down._

He was ignored. In fact, his presence wasn't even being considered. It was just the two of them.

"Please, Chuck, don't ask me in those terms. You know the answer already. No, I wouldn't care in the least if you met your dead wife's Tong and Fulcrum involved grandfather. But I do want a future with you. And I'm afraid. It's not professional but it's the way things are. It's why spies don't have personal lives."

"Then come with me. Come as Agent Sarah Walker of the CIA. Do your job, Agent Walker. But Sarah, come with me, please."

He pointed to the note and tapped it twice.

"OK, I'll be your body guard, your CIA handler, your 'ho' in tow', as long as you understand that once we're in that room what I say goes. If I say 'run', I better just see your bony ass bolting out the door. Agreed?"

Arthur Graham had just witnessed two things he never thought he'd live to see. Sarah Walker defeated in a head-to-head slap down and then sweet-talked into accepting a situation that screamed 'risk'. And where in the hell did she come up with "ho' in tow?"

"If you two are now ready to continue, the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency would offer a few comments."

The conference ended a few minutes later and the op order would be emailed to the various insertion teams ordering them to stand by and render assistance. Bartowski and Walker, with Casey in the surveillance van monitoring for fubars, would attempt to turn the old General against Fulcrum.

End GreenEyedGirl13


	14. Uncle Pimps Chucks Chicks

_**GreenEyedGirl14a**_

_**A/N: There were 2 versions of this written. This one is by far the more charitable. Read dialogue carefully. There are double entendres, connections to your questions and hints of things to come. I am not done messing yet. Every team has 3 members. **_

_**If you don't recognize the names Richelieu, Machiavelli, Medici or Potemkin, for God's sake quit reading this drivel and open up a text book. **_

_**Armor-Plated-Rat  
Key West  
3 July 2009  


* * *

**_

**CyberLogicals llc  
11:40am**

"Graham, secure."

"Bartowski, secure. Well, Director, you got what you wanted - the NSA mole identified and in custody. All that remains is Casey and the Grandfather. We both understand that, right, Art? No more 'oh, one more thing', right?"

"That's correct. You've arranged for Casey? You know he was only following orders, don't you?"

"That excuse went out after the war crimes trials at Nuremberg, Director. He does not get a pass. He killed my wife. If he'd tried with me and failed, well, maybe. But he didn't. He goes down. And Fulcrum's Paymaster is next. And then it's done. You'll leave us alone to see what develops?"

"My word, son, my word on it."

"And there's no way to get this damned intersect out of my head?"

"You knew that going in, Bartowski. You and Larkin were the only ones capable of handling the images that we could identify with the Omaha Project and he got you booted out. With him out of the picture now, that left you. So quit your whining and live with it. It means you'll team with Sarah permanently for future operations. Assuming she hasn't killed you after this morning. The only sanctioned husband and wife team in the CIA. Incredible."

"Yeah, well, the plan required a wee bit of tension to explain Casey as security and Sarah in the van, didn't it? And there's probably enough tension between us now to trip over. You know I'm the only one of your 'kids' that didn't become an agent. Are you sure this all wasn't a plot to correct your one mistake?" He laughed to take the sharp edge off the question.

"I recruited the four of you as potential teams of two. None of you met. All of you were fostered by Cathy and me. Well, all but you. You wouldn't leave Eleanor and no amount of pressure could change that. We just did what we could 'long distance'. A mentor here, an influential teacher, a scholarship, a kick in the ass, a friendly cop to look the other way."

"A dead father buried, no questions asked. A traumatized sister getting quiet counseling. Yeah, you don't have to go into detail. I know. But you blew it with Larkin and his obsession on being the only one to be 'download capable', didn't you? And you took a chance on introducing "Lynn" to the grandfather when he didn't even know he had a 'grandchild' to begin with? Eight years of preparation for one letter. And then what were the chances of Lynn and I falling in love and marrying? Art, you'd fall into a bucket of crap and come out with new clothes."

"Do you really think it was 'chance', Bartowski? She was assigned to you. She absolutely hated you for the first two months. She called me nearly every night bitching about the 'tight-assed round eye she had to work with.' But I knew you'd charm your way past her defenses. And no, I never thought you two would fall in love and marry like you did but don't get cocky."

"Chuck, I knew you'd marry Lynn because it was her assignment. Now, son, I know that seems impossible but she was a patriot, dedicated to doing what was necessary for the greater good. Marrying you, well, let's just say I didn't have to threaten her, and she did love you, son. Don't ever doubt that. Just not right away and not as intensely as you think."

"So this thing with Walker… you arranged that too? It's her assignment. I'm her assignment. This whole thing has been on elaborate Potemkin village to get me to this point in time, right? Richelieu, Machiavelli, the Medici family, they were all amateurs compared to you. Christ, how do you sleep at night? How much do you pay these people to spread their legs and break my heart for your damned greater good?"

"All I will say is that she asked to stay and be assigned to you when you were found to have the intersect fully downloaded. Someone trustworthy needed to be on you 24/7 and you wife was 'emotionally unstable and unreliable' to quote the jargon. I approved her request. After Lynn died, she wanted this to be a terminal assignment. She intended it to be a lifetime commitment for the greater good to you. I just don't see it ending as well as you and Lynn though."

"But the country was and still is in incredible peril, son. You know Fulcrum's intentions. We're the only country strong enough to resist them. And we've made astounding progress over the past years. The breakup of the Soviet Union, the Warsaw Pact dissolving, the EU being formed. All these things hurt Fulcrum and gave us time."

"Art, I don't envy you explaining a decade of manipulation to Sarah Walker. You know she's going to come unglued, don't you? Especially when she figures out that Larkin was your choice as her "mate". You're going to be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, old man."

Graham laughed. You had to find humor to get by. Chuck had discovered that early in life but somehow finding out your wife was paid to marry you and your current squeeze, well, some girls will do anything for a Porsche apparently.

But neither of them had considered Sarah Walker in their plotting. Pissed-off Sarah was an elemental force of nature and could not be predicted.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
6:45pm**

Chuck wore his charcoal gray Armani, crisp white shirt with the silk tie Sarah paid $140 for, and telling him it was worth every penny. Personally, he figured $15 for a tie was too much but since falling into her clutches he had to admit in some respects 'clothes make the man'. Apparently, Malloy's "Dress for Success" was required reading at spy school.

He put on his NSA-issued knock-off Rolex with the transponder, panic button, vitals telemetry and secret decoder ring for decoding Ovaltine messages. You never could tell when some spy would resort to a 1940s substitution code.

He was trying to tame his wild hair when he saw his…what? Girlfriend? Handler? Partner? Lover? Mother of His Children? Paid companion? He didn't know. All of them applied but he personally preferred 'Lover' but grimaced at its trashy inference. He decided to settle on 'my Sarah' for now until time and circumstance led them elsewhere.

Sarah walked in wearing a simple yet elegant 'little black dress'.

"Sarah, please tell me you have your pistol with you but don't tell me where it is. I can find your knives by touch but I don't see any way you could possibly have your Beretta with you."

"Relax, Chuck. I'll be able to protect you. Just stick to whatever devious and unnecessarily complicated plan you've dreamed up and we'll be fine. Just remember, once we're in the zone, I'm in command of your safety. No question, no argument, no alternatives, you do exactly what I tell you with great alacrity."

"If I recall correctly, it was "bolting bony ass" that was such a hit with the Director although I think his all-time favorite would be 'Ho in Tow'. You don't really think I see you as that, do you Sarah?"

She was in a hurtful and pissy mood and she knew it but still she let go with a final volley. "Well, I think 'slut in residence' is appropriately descriptive."

Chuck's face turned white as a sheet and his hands clenched so tightly that you could hear the tendons creak. That was too close to the truth in some eyes. Lynn had not been the Bartowski 'slut in residence' but now, well, he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Least of all with the women of the CIA.

"Agent Walker, you probably haven't noticed but there is a brand new bedroom suite in Eleanor's room. I had it delivered and set up in hopes she might come to visit. Dumb idea, I know. But it turns out it's going to get some use after all. There are fresh linens in the closet in the bedroom. Use it for the remainder of your stay."

He took out his iPhone. "Casey, Bartowski. Meet me out front of my apartment. There's been a change in plan. Agent Walker will be in surveillance and you and I are the designated 'couple'."

There was a pause but Chuck was in no mood to take any shit from anyone. "Major Casey, this is my mission. Your mom's in detention but if you continue to be insubordinate I'm sure we can put a cot in her cell for you. 10 minutes, Major. We're on go. And bring the arsenal, John. If things go badly you're going to have to get us out of there. I can't hit the ground, remember? Good. Nine minutes."

Chuck walked towards the door and stopped, one hand on the door and the other kneading his eyes.

"They would have been beautiful children."

He was so angry at her slur that he left without another word, not trusting himself.

* * *

_'Oh, Lynn, you really blew it this time. You and Ellie, you just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Well, you released me from mourning but all you did was give me another reason to mourn. If this is what life has in store for me, I want no part of it. Damn Arthur Graham and his plans within plans to Hell. And damn you to hell, too, you fucking whore. I thought you loved me. What a fool I was and am. No more, hear me? No more!'  


* * *

_Sarah walked to their room, took off the dress, hung it up and changed into jeans, t-shirt and jacket. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and slipped into her boots. If she was sitting in a van she might as well be comfortable. It was then that the full impact of their exchange hit her. "…remainder of your stay."

John Casey was shaken. General Beckman was Fulcrum and suddenly the asset had developed friends in high places and cojones to go with them. He would be on his best behavior until he saw which way the wind was blowing. If nothing else, he was a survivor. His phone rang. It was the asset again.

"John, bring a pound of C4 or Semtex in some sort of briefcase. We'll need a remote detonator, too. Just as insurance. If they won't play, we'll send them to wherever the NK agent is."

Casey saw Bartowski standing at the curb. He pulled up and popped the lock. He got into the car and motioned for him to resume the trip to the hotel. Not another word was exchanged until they reached their destination.  


* * *

"We need to establish communications links before we go in there. Here's your earwig, I'll establish the link with Walker. You'll hear confirmation. Your cuff mike up, Chuck?"

"Won't know until you set up the link, Major. Calm down. It's just a meet and greet. No big deal. Unless you've managed to piss these guys off as well."

Casey took a hard look at Bartowski. Something was different. His normally soft face looked carved from ivory and his hands were clenched and quivering in rage. Somebody had pissed him off, big time. Poor Walker. This guy was a real handful. He didn't know how she could put up with him and still always maintain a professional attitude. Man, she was a pro. Arthur Graham's ladies were known throughout the Agency and other GO's as Graham's Girls. He was the Agency Pimp and seemed to enjoy it and now he was in charge of everything.

Chuck motioned Casey to get a move on and started walking to the Hotel entrance. Casey grabbed his arm to stop him. "Bartowski, wait for the communications link to set up. It'll only be a few more minutes. You need to calm down. Slow down." He figured the kid was scared of meeting the Chinese. "This isn't like the freighter. We're on our home turf with lots of back up."

"Casey, I know it's not the freighter. What's your problem? I know what I have to do. Make sure you cover my ass. I've already lost half my team. Don't get sloppy."

The commo link initiated in time for Sarah to hear 'I've already lost half my team…" and she knew then that the situation between them had reached critical mass as a result of her stupid shot back in the apartment.

She hadn't meant it and he hadn't deserved it. She was pissed because she'd lost an argument in front of her uncle to her asset. It was a professional thing and she was not above being petty. She'd apologize when this was over and find a way to make amends. It was a horrible thing to say, especially as it came on the heels of their first and only lovemaking.

Casey relaxed. Trouble between him and Walker. Good. He didn't need the hassles. All he had to do was do his job and he was in the clear. He still couldn't believe that Beckman was Fulcrum. An incredible level for a mole to reach undetected.  


* * *

Chuck walked briskly into the lobby and saw a group of young military-aged Chinese standing purposefully outside a corridor leading to a meeting area. He walked up to the group and introduced himself hoping they spoke English.

"What do you want, Mr. Bartowski?"

"I wish to see the General after his meetings are concluded. I am the husband of his granddaughter." He unbuttoned a portion of his shirt and pulled it open showing the glyph tattooed on his chest. The reaction was immediate and gratifying.

"Please remain here, sir. The General will be pleased to meet with you. You showed great honor with your letters and gestures of respect. They were well received. We share your grief over the death of one so young and precious to you. Please, remain here."

He picked up his cuff mike and said softly, "Casey, you get that?"

"Yeah, great honor. How do we get in?"

"Why Major, **_we_** don't get in. I do." Alarm bells rang in Sarah's mind. Why would he insist on going in alone? No point in any of his actions here. And what's with the briefcase? He didn't have it when he left the apartment, did he?

"Casey, don't let him do it. There's something wrong here. This is not the plan. He's not to go in there alone, got it? Not alone." Sarah watched Chuck's image move as Casey followed the asset with his lapel cam and even with the grainy image it was easy to see the face of Chuck Bartowski – the face of Righteous Justice she'd seen the other night.

"Casey, what's in the damned briefcase he's carrying? There's no reason for it."

"He wanted a pound of C4 or Semtex with a remote detonator. Something about insurance.

_"They would have been beautiful children."_ 'That's when he made the change in the plan' thought Sarah. She knew what she had to do because she knew what he planned to do.

"Chuck, this is Sarah. Abort the mission. Abort! It doesn't have to be this way, Chuck."

"Casey, stop him. He's not responding to comms."

"He took out his earwig and it's too late. He's in the meeting room, Walker."

Sarah checked the telemetry on his vitals. Heart rate and breathing were slightly elevated but nothing indicating stress or fear.  


* * *

Chuck was passed through the double doors into the meeting room by two flunkies. As he walked through the entrance he reached up and removed his earwig. He didn't need the distractions of Sarah's voice and pleas. He thought about the cuff mike but it was too obvious to discard.

There were 7 old people sitting around a conference room table with an equal number of guards standing against the wall of the small meeting room. He stopped about 10 feet from the group and gave a short, nervous bow as if unsure of what to do. The old man at the far end of the table stood and smiled and spread his arms in welcome and the others seemed to relax.

Chuck swung and released the briefcase in an arc that ended almost in the arms of the surprised General, and raised his cuff mike and said "I loved you, Sarah" and as he pushed the execute key on the detonator he hurled himself behind a square support pillar to try to escape the blast.

* * *

Sarah Walker heard and felt the sound of the explosion and saw the telemetry on his vitals all spike and then flat line and ran from the van towards the hotel.

John Casey was standing 3 feet in front of the double doors and was killed by flying debris that used to be the wall and doors of the meeting room's north entrance.

Arthur Graham was monitoring the events from the command center and saw the telemetry read outs on Chuck Bartowski spike then flat line. He saw the west corner of the hotel bulge and then expand outward and upward as the blast cut its way out of the confines of the building. Damned Bartowski had to improvise on everything he did. He never followed the plan. He contacted an aide to arrange transportation to Los Angeles. One of his children would need him. He had hoped it would be two.

Panicky guests and staff rushed from the hotel out into the parking lot fearing further explosions. The NSA teams slipped in as first responders and surveyed the room and confirmed that all Tong and Fulcrum personnel were dead, those that could be identified by the remaining chunks. None of them noticed the man stagger from behind the cement column and leave what used to be a meeting room.

As Chuck staggered by Casey's body he glanced down and smiled and spit on what he presumed was the face. He couldn't tell and really didn't care. He shook his head trying to clear his vision. All he could hear was a damned train roaring past. His wrist hurt like hell and he looked down and saw what was left of his super-duper spy watch hanging by a thread. Oops.

Somehow he got turned around in the corridor and staggered back into the meeting room and out the gaping hole in its outer wall, ignored by the NSA survey team. He walked down through the parking lot until he came to Casey's car. Feeling around under the driver's front fender he found the little magnetic box where Casey kept his spare ignition key. He was so predictable in so many ways. Dumbass is dead now.

He looked around and found a fairly large rock and knocked out the driver's window and reached in and unlocked the door. He slid in ignoring the shards of glass cutting into his ass and started the car and somehow drove back to the apartment without passing out or killing anyone else in the process. He parked the car in Casey's spot and lurched to his apartment and collapsed on the bed.

* * *

_I did it, Lynn. Now, can I please just die and end this heartache? Please, if you ever really loved me, not the mark I was, let me end._

'Ah, Sarah, I guess I didn't really know you after all. You CIA bitches are all alike. Job, duty, mission.

_'Let me spell this out for you in simple terms. I love you. I want to be with you. Living here with you is not an obligation, it is my dream.'_

' I'll bet you practiced that in front of a mirror, Agent Walker, to get just the right degree of desperate sincerity.'

_"Do you really think we'll have beautiful children or are you just agreeing out of a sense of obligation?"_

'Oh, please stop. Have you no pity? No more. I'm done.'

He finally passed out. The bleeding from his ears had stopped but the ringing would persist for days. His eyes had swollen shut from the overpressure of the blast and the blood vessels all over his exposed skin had ruptured and his nose still bled sluggishly. Remarkably, the most serious injuries were cuts on his legs from glass in Casey's car, a broken wrist and flash burns on his face and hands that had carried off his eyebrows and eyelashes. The long curls on the top of his head were gone, singed to ash.  


* * *

Explosion Site

Sarah had already spoken with the NSA bomb expert. Given the size of the room, the architecture, the position of the assassin and the degree of damage to the bodies, many of the larger unidentified chunks of bone and flesh and tissue were probably all that remained of Charles Bartowski. The NSA agent had not known of the relationship that once existed between the subject of the search and the searching agent. He might have been a little less blunt.

She had identified the body of Major John Casey. She knew that if Chuck hadn't changed the plan, it would be Casey identifying her body. He had protected her much better than she'd protected him.

She called Arthur Graham to report the loss of the intersect.

"Graham, secure."

"Walker, secure. Bartowski is dead. The General and all Tong members are ground beef. We haven't found enough to identify his body. Just chunks of…just chunks and…"

"Sarah, I'll be there in 3 hours. Hang on, baby girl. I'll meet you at your apartment. He was already in a CIA jet bound for Burbank.

Sarah drove back to their apartment and parked in the back as usual. She was still sitting in her car when Arthur Graham opened the car door and led her into the apartment.

* * *

Casa Bartowski

Arthur Graham was drinking a beer watching Sarah Walker pace the kitchen floor recounting everything that had occurred from early this morning until she'd been startled by the director opening the door of her Porsche.

"Uncle Art, who the hell was Chuck Bartowski? Don't lie, either. Who was he? Was he an Agent?" She had been crying and her eyes were red and puffy and there was a sizeable pile of used tissues clutched in her hands.

"'He' was Charles Bartowski, a resident of Burbank, CA, brother of Eleanor Faye Bartowski and widower, formerly married to Lynn Kimble, an agent of the Central Intelligence Agency. And before you ask, no, he had no idea she was an agent. He fell in love with his handler and she married him. He didn't know he was being handled and she never told him. He learned about all this a little more than 24 hours ago from me. Needless to say, he did not take it well."

"He was supposed to be an agent but I guess you could say he was the one that got away. There were four of you and only he stayed a civilian, totally ignorant of his status. He was the most promising and the most damaged and the best 'person' of all of you. To look at him you'd never know he was a scared 15-year-old kid who'd thrown his life away to save his sister. And who did it again yesterday to save you."

"What? What did you say?"

He spent the next 2 hours explaining the last 10 years or so. And when he was done, the only thing she had to say was "You expected me to 'mate' with Bryce Larkin? Are you nuts?"

He started to laugh almost uncontrollably. "Well, I'm sure glad one of us finds this crap funny."

"Oh, no baby girl, Chuck… Chuck predicted your exact words, even to the outrage. Tell me the boy didn't know you better than you know yourself?"

"You better be looking over your shoulder for the next decade, Arthur Graham." That started him laughing again.

"And I suppose he said that, too?" She was almost laughing herself.

"No, he said it would be the rest of my life." And they laughed, quietly, again.

Chuck heard laughter from the kitchen. Ellie and Devon must be back. Good. Maybe they could make his headache go away and fix his hand. Hurt a lot. He got off the bed and staggered over to his door. He was dizzy and the roaring in his ears made it difficult to concentrate. He managed to open the door and got to the corner of the hall and stopped, leaning out into the living room and hanging on to the wall with his good hand.

"Ellie?" He shouted.

Art Graham dropped his beer and just stared at the dead man. If he could have turned pale, he would have. Covered with white gypsum dust, blood and bits of people, Chuck staggered into the living room and called again for his sister. His face was swollen and his eyes were mere slits. "Ellie, please help me, please." He sat down on the couch and finally let the darkness take him back.

"Quick, call 911 and tell them get an ambulance. Burn victim, possible internals, broken arm and severe blast damage. Sarah, Sarah, make the call, damn it. It's Chuck!" Sarah Walker had fainted. First Lynn's letter and now a dead man calling for his sister had proven too much.

* * *

Burbank Hospital Emergency Room

The ER was crawling with suits. Arthur Graham had called in a security team to seal off the apartment and provide containment at the hospital. There was no way to create a cover and back-story for this event so he just clamped on the Interests of National Security blanket.

An ER physician came over and spoke with Sarah. "Are you his wife?"

"No. I guess you could say girl friend."

"When did you find him? These injuries should have been treated hours ago. Why wasn't he brought in?"

Arthur Graham stepped in, flashed his ID and told the doctor the truth about how the injuries were sustained, when and where. He told him that apparently his agent had been injured, disoriented and had driven himself home only to collapse in his room. No one thought to look in his room when they returned from identifying bodies.

The doctor took one look at Sarah and nodded and returned to work on his patient.

"Agent Walker, you better pull it together. Your asset is in there and you're out here acting like you don't know or care. I said it before and I'll say it again, you can talk the talk but can't do shit for him when he needs it. Maybe you and Larkin are a better match. Consider it, Agent. You don't deserve that young man in there. And remember why he's there and you're here and not on some slab in a morgue like what's left of John Casey."

After x-rays, MRIs Cat Scans and basic mend and sew, Bartowski was transferred to a private room. Two security agents were stationed outside the room. No one who was not on the authorized list was allowed in. No exceptions.

Sarah Walker was sitting upright in a chair clutching the hand of the patient in a grip that would probably have been uncomfortable had he been capable of feeling. The other hand and wrist were encased in a plaster cast.

She had obviously been doing some inner reflection because her lap was filled with wet tissues and her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

The doctor assured her he would make a full recovery, the hair would grow back and he'd lose his tan and begin to peel in a few days. The cast could be removed in four-six weeks.

The patient awoke shortly after the doctor left. "Am I still alive?" he asked?

"Yes, baby, you're still alive."

His reply was short: "Aw, shit," and he fell asleep again.

The next time he awoke he saw Director Graham and asked: "Did I get them all, Art?"

"Yes, Chuck, even Casey is gone now."

"Good. Now keep your word and let her go. Get her out of here, Art. She doesn't want to be here. She called herself 'the resident slut' and she's anything but that. And I won't be the reason for her thinking that of herself. I think I got them all, Art, I saw Casey, he couldn't be alive. " He was asleep again.

Graham looked at her and asked for an explanation.

"I was angry at him and you. I don't like losing an argument to my asset twice in front of my boss. I was going to apologize. I didn't realize how badly I'd hurt him until he pulled me off security and put me in the van. And then I saw the briefcase but it was too late."

The next time he awoke Graham was gone and Sarah Walker was sleeping, her head on the edge of his bed holding his hand. He pulled his hand free and lightly stroked her face. She looked like she hadn't slept in days but she still looked beautiful to him.

She had awakened the moment she felt his hand leave hers but kept her eyes closed. She felt the gentle touch and stroke of his fingertips on her face. But it was what he said that made want to cry out to him that it would be all right, that everything could be fixed, but she waited.

"I got them all, Sarah. You're free now. Graham promised if I did this you'd be free. We were supposed to be together and free but it doesn't matter. I won't have an unwilling lover who's 'assigned' to love me. You're not anyone's resident slut, least of all mine."

"I didn't plan on coming back. I didn't want you to be obligated by duty and the job to the mark. Graham told me that my marriage to Lynn was a sham marriage. I won't do that to you. I love you too much, Sarah Walker but I know your commitment to your job. So wake up and go, please. I'm sorry for what you've had to do. I had no idea it wasn't real and now I feel so disgusted with myself for what I did to you."

"Do you really want me to go, Chuck? Was everything we did for nothing? Is what you did yesterday just an act of revenge for your own selfish reasons or was it what Art said? A deal for me? I know why you didn't want me for security. You didn't want me in the room. You knew I wouldn't leave you alone with them and I'd have been killed just like Casey. So, given all that evidence that you love me, do you want me to leave? Because I don't want to leave but I will if that's what you want. So, answer my question, please."

"Which one?"

"What?"

"You asked 5 questions in that speech."

Sarah sat down on the bed and grabbed his ears and forced him to look at her. "Do you want me to leave you?"

"No. But how will I ever know that this isn't a reprise of the marriage Graham forced on Lynn?"

"I'm going to see about springing you from this dump. Don't go anywhere."

* * *

"Ms. Walker, you have to understand the medical implications of blast overpressure. He's lucky to be alive. He shouldn't be alive. He has a contra-coup concussion and his falling asleep mid-meal, mid-sentence, whenever, is a consequence of that concussion. You can take him home but it won't lessen the frequency. Just be glad you're not taking him to the cemetery. He will get back to normal but I doubt you have the patience to wait."

* * *

Casa Bartowski

"I cannot believe Arthur Graham has plans for groups covering 10 years or more. I mean we were the first group and look how messed up we got. How many more groups are out there, I wonder?"

"I wasn't messed up, Agent Walker. I wasn't playing in your league, remember?"

"Yeah, well, you can't win them all. But I do have one question. How did you find out all that stuff you spouted off to Beckman that made her tip her hand about the grandfather?"

"I lied."

"What?"

"I lied. I made it all up. I didn't know Lynn and Graham were running a shadow op on her grandfather until we were married. When she was killed, I took over. What I noticed in the intersect was true but the rest was a bluff and Beckman swallowed it. So, Graham took her out. She's singing like a bird."

"Graham knew the old man was the paymaster for Fulcrum. All we wanted was to get him here so you professionals could either snatch him or kill him. I wasn't supposed to do the deed but all Graham's real big-time agents were out of position or well, not available or off doing stuff."

"Wait, you went into that room carrying a briefcase full of C4 to kill him and all the Tong members and had no exit strategy?"

"Sure I did. And it worked. Besides, I could never have pulled it off with you or Casey inside. Especially not you. This was a lone-wolf op, Sarah, with no connections back to the CIA in case it failed."

"What exactly, Charles Bartowski, was your 'exit' strategy?"

"Blow a big ass hole in the wall and exit."

"Sarah? Sarah? Breathe, Sarah, breathe. Ouch! Damn it, quit that. It worked, didn't it?"

* * *

"So, you and Graham have already decided that you and I will be the only sanctioned married team in the CIA, is that right?"

"No. There simply won't be any official or unofficial crap if a relationship should develop on Team Intersect. We're getting someone from outside the agency to be our 3rd member. Name's on file someplace in the file he emailed you."

"But Chuck, I don't want to get married."

"Then we won't be the only sanctioned married team in the CIA. Besides, I'm not sure I want to marry either. I think one lying bitch 'until death do you part' is quite enough for one man."

"Just like that? No objections, no fits, no buts?" His comment carried more truth than hurt, but it still hurt.

"Sarah, marriage is a partnership of emotions, feelings desires, goals and objectives. I thought we were headed there in the pre-Tango days but I guess I misread your signals. I thought you wanted a relationship but I guess our definitions differ. Remember, I'm not as worldly as you professional agents. I guess I lack the worldview. I'm just a stupid man who believed he was loved."

She started to say something, to object, to tell him her truth but he placed his fingertips on her lips and quelled her comment.

"Now let me ask you a question, or maybe questions depending on your answers."

"First question: Why are you here in this apartment with me right now?"

"It's an assignment I requested. You know that."

"Why were you happier before we made love than you are now? Why was that a watershed moment for us? OK, that's two questions but please grant me the exception to your rule."

"I-I-I don't think that's true, I don't think it's true at all. It just marked a point of development in our relationship, that's all."

"Sarah, I'm really tired. Weary, really, and I'm still adjusting to the whole Lynn thing so do you mind letting me get some sleep, please?"

"Sure, just let me take a quick shower and I'll be right back." She got up from their bed where they'd been talking and started to get undressed."

"Sarah, I told you to use the bed in Eleanor's room. There are fresh linens in the closet."

She gasped and began to tear up. She'd hoped he'd forgotten their confrontation but apparently he hadn't.

"Chuck, please, I was angry, I told you that. I've apologized and don't know what more I can do to put things right. I'm so sorry, Chuck, please, don't do this to us."

"I told you in the hospital that I didn't want you to go and it was true then and it's true now. But I can't handle this whole 'us' thing you've crafted. I don't know what's real and what's part of Art's schemes."

"For Christ's sake, Sarah, she married me as part of her job, so how do I know all of this isn't part of yours? Can you answer me that question? Because it's the only answer I want from you right now."

* * *

She walked from the room that was one of the few places she'd ever been 'real' and down the hall. The shower muffled the sound of her sobs for the man whose heart had been so badly broken by someone exactly like her and she knew that she would have done exactly the same thing in her place.

But now she no longer believed she was that person. She'd changed. He'd changed her. She would show him just how much no matter what obstacles he threw in her path.

* * *

Chuck couldn't sleep. He could hear her sobbing her heart out in the shower. The acoustics in this place left much to be desired. The sound of Ellie and Devon doing unspeakable things to each other used to fuel a lot of Chuck and Lynn's late night giggling sessions. She had such a creative imagination.

Chuck hadn't touched their computer since her death. It was really her computer. He used the laptop for his programming since it was portable and he liked to sprawl on the couch and 'think'.

He turned it on and was surprised to see a password protected boot program. He started fooling around trying to guess her password and then when he couldn't foil it with the usual obvious passwords he set his mind to solving a puzzle. He loved puzzles.

It was a straight alpha password and that meant a word or combination of words. Well, his wife was a CIA agent, so that helped him think 'devious' and he started plugging away again. It had been embarrassingly simple: uncleart.

The desktop had the usual MS junk but there were also many folders with names like 'asshab', 'asswork', 'assfam'. He opened 'assfam' and found a database file listing data on Ellie, Devon and smaller files on their friends and neighbors. He closed it and opened 'asshab' and found database files of all his habits, preferences, likes, dislikes, anecdotal information. He noted that the dates began with her employment at BuyMore to right before her death.

There was a folder named simply "Chuck" and he clicked it. There were dozens of subfolders, some labeled by date and some by event. Being a guy he opened 'sexhar' and found word files from the initial weeks of her employment. Did 'sexhar' mean she was building a sexual harassment case against him for blackmail? He laughed at that. Clicking on one at random he waited for Word to load and scan the file. It was not encrypted and that surprised him. Some spy.

"Setup sex harr situ at sportstore. _Setup a sexual harassment situation at sporting goods store."_

Rtn BM and cry asset. Situ descry. _Returned to the BuyMore and ?went crying to asset. Described situation._

Asset lv cm bk. No cmnt. Outcm? _Asset left and returned without comment. No idea of outcome._

BMBM sd asset cx sportstore with fist. CB gd man. _Big Mike said asset canceled sporting goods target 'with his fist'. Said Chuck Bartowski is a good man._

He closed the file and wiped out his translation from her notes. He remembered that. She'd been upset and he went and hit the perv and went to Big Mike to get fired. Nothing happened and he went back to work. This must be a record of his actions. He wished he could find a diary or something. He wanted to know what she really felt for and about him.

He opened the folder dlyrpt and waited for it to load. There were more than a hundred files in date order. He picked one at random and figured he'd have to translate it again. Wrong. It was a text report.

'The asset continues to ignore me. I don't know what more I can do. I've practically thrown myself at him. The only thing I haven't done is blatantly proposition him. He's such a tightassed round eye."

The rest of the entry was housekeeping for the CIA. He opened another at random.

"Bryce Larkin and some woman came to harass asset with comparisons of stature. I saw Righteous Justice in action today. He cut that shit head off at knees and even managed to tear his girlfriend a new one. I came in and made like we were more than bf/gf and kissed him and dissed his targets. He responded. I was so wrong. He has no gay tendencies. He's a grt kisser. He finally asked me out. Tell Larkin and his whore to stay away. It could have been a disaster for the asset."

And another one.

UA, if T/O comes I will not be able to execute. I am compromised. I cannot allow injury to my asset . I love him. Be warned, I will terminate anyone you send to hurt him. I will take him off the grid if T/O issued.

One of the last entries.

UA, I am pregnant. I do not intend to abort. I will have his child. The last two you sent to take him were only hurt. Try and remove him to 'care' and I'll terminate and go off grid. Your promises empty. No one will harm my beloved round eye or our child. He IS the intersect. Larkin downloaded it. He is safe with me, UA. If the blonde returns for him, I will terminate her and we will go offgrid. Leave us alone.

I have placed documents throughout banks, S/L safeboxes. If anything happens to him, you will be very popular in some circles. Tell blondie no more contact with my husband. He is safer with me than with anyone. If she chose this as her terminal assignment, too bad. I'm not leaving him. She'll have to wait for the gods to take me. Good bye UA.

The joke was on the puppet masters. One of the puppets had cut her strings. He had no way of knowing if the other had cut her strings. One thing was certain, Art kept his promises only when convenient to his purposes.

Could the same be said for his houseguest? Lynn's comment suggested an enormous commitment by Sarah to him. Implying she couldn't 'move in on him' until she was dead.

She hadn't lied. She just hadn't told him all the truth.

* * *

She was still in the shower and still sobbing. The water must be ice cold by now. He got up and walked into the kitchen and put a plastic bag on his cast and went to the bathroom and opened the door. There she was, huddled in a corner away from the freezing spray sobbing and seemingly unaware of her surroundings.

He opened the door and went in and got down on his knees and tried to pick her up but either she'd gained a lot of weight or the past days had sapped his strength.

"Sarah, stop this. I can't pick you up, Sarah. I just can't. Help me out here and stand up. You're going to freeze to death and I won't have that. Sarah Walker, get off your sorry ass and on your feet!"

She seemed to shudder and then stand up by inches, using the wall as a ladder. When she was almost upright Chuck picked her up and staggered and lurched back to their room.

She tried pushing him away but didn't seem to have any strength left. He pulled a few towels from the linen closet and wiped her down quickly, then pulled her onto his lap while he went to work on her dripping hair. She was shivering uncontrollably so he pulled the blankets around them and held her and rocked her until her shivering subsided.

"Sarah honey, why didn't you tell me what a 'terminal assignment' was? Why do you make loving you so damned difficult? Why won't you just talk to me, Sarah, without all the CIA bullshit?"

He continued briskly rubbing her down. She hadn't said anything. Hadn't made a sound since he'd plopped her on his lap and wrapped her in blankets.

"I found Lynn's daily reports and diary and her reports to UA, Sarah. I saw your 'terminal assignment' request. I know what it meant to request and now I know what it means for you and me."

She reached up and put her arms around his neck and burrowed into his soaked t-shirt. He tightened his grip on her and noticed that his cast was getting damp.

"Sarah, I'm going to put you down on the bed for a minute. I have to dry off this cast before it melts. I'll just be a second. Please let go, I promise a minute or two at the most."

Chuck walked to the bathroom, found a hairdryer and brought it back to their room. Sarah was right where he'd left her. She hadn't moved, made a sound or tried to dry her hair herself.

He plugged in the hair dryer and blew off his cast. He knew it would harden in the heat so he could avoid another ER trip. He'd seen too much of hospitals.

When he felt the heat on his casted wrist he redirected his efforts to her hair. She stopped him by grabbing the hair dryer and turning it off and throwing it down. She sat up, ignoring her nakedness and pulled his soaked t-shirt over his head and threw it down on the floor. She grabbed the waist of his wet boxers and pulled them as far down as she could then said "Off, Chuck". He stood and pulled them down and kicked them off.

She threw back the covers on their bed and pushed him down on his back. She straddled him and then lay down along his length and pulled the covers back over them. She pointed to the light and he turned it off. She slid off to his side, still in contact with as much of him as possible.

He heard a heavy sigh and then felt her begin inching her way up his body until her face was beside his. Her lips found his ear and she sucked on his earlobe sending shivers down his spine. She buried her face in the hollow of his neck and said in a very small voice "Don't ever make me leave you again, Chuck. Please. I'm so sorry for that resident slut comment. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me and that was wrong. You didn't know why I was angry. You don't read minds. And you don't know what Graham ordered me to do and you just walked into all the shit that had festered for years and finally came out. I can't say I'm sorry enough. It wouldn't make any difference. So no more talking. I'm going to start showing you. I will walk the walk, Chuck, I promise."

"Just don't ever make me leave you again. Ever. No one has ever taken care of me like you do. No one has ever cared. Any one who showed any caring only wanted to fuck me or control me. You, you just want to love me and I didn't see that for what it was. I'm sorry for that, too."

"Baby, you're too tired to tango and so am I. You're hurt and you need to let me take care of you for a change. I'm not good at it so we'll have to practice a lot. Let's start by just holding each other, Chuck. I don't need anything else. Right here, right now, is all I ever really wanted. To be held by a man who loves me for me and not for the cheap thrills of touching me for his own satisfaction. Please, just that tonight is enough."

EndGrneydgrl14a


	15. Carina UnChuck Dead Undead Ellie Returns

_GreenEyedGirl15_

_A/N: Sorry for the file size and the delay. I didn't update in Nassau. Couldn't find a logical file break and I really don't care. This is not a wrap-up chapter so don't expect a 'thrilling conclusion'. I don't know when I'll end it since it fills the time. I accidentally deleted the plot outline and some notes. So, to the 3 peeps still reading, thanks. I haven't checked the reviews so perhaps there are fewer now?_

_I've added Ron Rico to my close friends although the '3 Js' are still in abundance. Ron is a cheaper friend. I'll update this afternoon in Freeport if the Jitney runs._

_Armor-Plated-Rat_

West End, Grand Bahama

_9July2009  


* * *

_

CyberLogicals llc

**Castle**

The next few months were very taxing and rewarding for Chuck and Sarah. Taxing because they had to integrate a new member into a team that was anything but a team, and rewarding because there had been no further explosive developments in their relationship and Bartowski had managed to avoid hospitalization or injury for a record-breaking 60 days.

Arthur Graham insisted on weekly team 'meetings' via teleconference and Chuck was alternately surly for the interruption and sarcastic about the slow-motion progress of the team towards proactively using the intersect for operational intelligence and missions.

"God damn it, Bartowski, 2 months ago you almost terminated the intersect project with your damned fool stunt at the Radisson that ended up with one of your teammates getting killed and you almost turned into crispy dog food. You are not a trained agent. You went into that situation without an exit strategy and you breached protocols and ignored the commands of your handler to abort. Your team is not ready for active deployment domestically or overseas. Get trained and competent and then and only then will we discuss anything operational. In the meantime, do the intel reviews for the operational teams. You are support only."

"Director, that's so much crap. I had an exit strategy and it worked perfectly. The teammate was dirty and you know it. The order to abort never came because they would have spotted the earwig. I got the Tong and both Generals. Mission successful." Chuck did not take kindly to the 'Pimp', as he privately referred to Director Arthur Graham, redacting mission results to support his opinions when he hadn't been more than a long distance observer.

"Oh, yes, let's see your exit strategy was" he put on his glasses and squinted at the report, 'blow a hole in the wall and exit.' Classic, Bartowski, just classic."

"Agent Walker, draft a training program for the intersect and forward it to me for review and approval with the week. Include Agent Hansen in it. You have to integrate Carina into the team, Sarah, no matter how much she grates on you. And keep her in the dark on our boy's secret abilities, at least until her clearances are processed. Just continue with the 'he's a computer genius' cover."

"How's that going, Sarah? Making any headway? Unofficially, of course. I can read your reports. Carina still trying to get him in the sack?"

Carina Hansen was renown for her bawdy humor, earthy comments and lusty nature. She was Beckman's choice to replace Walker and Graham saw no reason for her not to replace Casey. A little competition would do the team good.

"AHEM…'him' is sitting right here, Art. Remember, tall, dashing good looks, excellent teeth, dedicated serf to the greater good." Add insufferably bad attitude to that description, too, Art old boy. It had been a year, today. So much had happened, so much had changed. So much of his world had turned to shit in only a year.

"Director, that situation is well in hand and an understanding has been reached regarding the nature and degree of the asset/handler relationship."

Arthur Graham figured as much. He didn't know what the particulars were but he figured Sarah would protect her man.

"Good. Talk to you next week. Get the training syllabus to me ASAP. Stay healthy, Chuck." Graham terminated the connection.

"Stay healthy, Chuck," he snarked. "The Pimp has the gall to criticize success at every turn. He's a manipulative bureaucrat with an ego the size of the planet and the memory of a goldfish. These meetings are a total waste of time, Agent Walker. Surely you could have written your comments and emailed them as an attachment? He _can_ read emails, can't he?"

These weekly meetings were time wasters and she could have done it all via email but Chuck had to get used to the way the Agency handled technology and utilized it in its operations.

"Chuck, the Director is not the Pimp. You're going to slip one day and call him that to his face and then there'll be hell to pay. And I'll be the one to pay for it."

"Fine. I have some coding to finish. Please try and keep your fellow professional from hiding under my desk and unzipping my fly at the least provocation. These meetings are wastes and she's becoming an annoying under-the-desk fixture, Agent Walker."

"She only did it one time, Chuck, and I warned her not to try anything like that again. And it was funny the way you leaped out and over your desk. Very impressive. The Russian judge gave you a 7.6" She smiled at the memory but frowned when she recalled the conversation afterwards.

'_Carina, you pull any crap like that on Chuck again and I'll cut off your major assets and string them up to dry in the sun and use as trash bags, very small ones.'_

'_Then you better start taking better care of the asset, Agent Walker. I can smell a needy man there. I was briefed that you and the asset were in a sanctioned relationship, Walker, so why aren't you taking care of business? And put the knife away, Sarah. I know he's taken. I can tell by the way he looks at you when you aren't looking. You have him hooked, so why aren't you reeling him in?'_

'_It's not like that, Carina, this one's special. Not like anyone else I've ever been with. So we're going slow, making sure we find and disarm the landmines. That's what he calls them, relationship landmines.'_

'_Oh, my God. You are so far gone. So compromised. That's what the director meant with this being 'a permanent assignment' for you, wasn't it. You're in love with the mark and they allowed it, approved of it? Who is this guy and what makes him get all this to play with?'_

'_All this is what he's paid for, Carina. This company is a moneymaking cover and we pay our own way. As for him, you don't have a high enough pay grade. Only the director does. I know because, well, because. It's a job requirement. If it becomes yours, Carina, you'll never, ever be alone again. There will always be someone watching, listening, writing down every little thing you say or do for the rest of your life.'_

'_So, how is he in the sack? Adequate? I wonder, maybe disappointing? You don't seem exactly fulfilled either, Sarah. Need some counseling? Some mentoring? Maybe someone to help you two along the way?'_

'_What's with you and the knives? Ok, Ok, I get it. He's yours, warts, inabilities, shortcomings and all. Oh, my God, that's it, isn't it, he's …Ouch, ok, ok.' _

"So, Chuck, what are we doing for dinner? Pizza, Chinese, Thai? There's that new Indian place over on Crenshaw."

She looked up when she got no response and saw that her asset/boyfriend had already left the Castle for his office. Maybe Carina was getting a little too pushy.

* * *

Chuck stepped out of the 'secret entrance' to the Castle facility that was, in reality, a janitor's closet complete with mops, buckets, nasty smelling cleaning solvents and other tools of the maintenance trade.

He walked towards his office hoping that Carina was off sharpening her knives or banging the UPS guy in his truck. It was almost 3pm and it had been a week since the last guy had made a delivery on site. He was in no mood to put up with her sexual bantering. He almost wished John Casey had survived the Radisson and thus would negate the need for former DEA Agent/Operative Carina Hansen. Almost.

Actually he was intensely pleased that the NSA agent was dead, simply disappointed the event had been nearly spontaneous as opposed to long-suffering like being fed slowly, feet first, into a wood chipper.

Unfortunately, Carina had either scared off the UPS guy, finished him off or they'd received no deliveries because she was sitting at the receptionist's desk that doubled as a security post. Monitors displayed views of the front and rear entrances and anyone attempting to enter was required to be admitted via door release from this desk. These cameras were computer controlled and linked to facial recognition software.

"Hey, Chuck, big plans for you and the Green Giant this weekend?"

Carina had started referring to Agent Walker as 'Green Giant' or 'GG' since the two had had a confrontation over her unwelcome attention to Chuck. Carina had accused her of being jealous of the obvious affect she had on Chuck thus the 'green' portion of the nickname. The 'giant' referred to the differences in height, Carina being substantially shorter.

Chuck just sighed. Plans. Plans are fodder for God's private jokes.

'No, Carina, no big plans. How about you? I hear the fleet's making port in San Diego. That should fill your weekend calendar quite nicely and maybe leave time for sight seeing?'

Carina never let the saucy smile slip even a millimeter but cringed within her as Chuck's comment slammed into her. Oh, crap, the meeting was either a disaster or some situation with Walker has crashed and burned, or something's really got him by the short hairs. He never made nasty comments to anyone, well, except the Director. He was always there with a smile and a self-deprecating joke. This was 'unChuck'.

Chuck stopped and turned to her and looked at the carpet between his feet and her workstation.

"I'm sorry, Carina, really. I'm having a crap day and you didn't deserve that. I guess I'm just tired. Sorry, I'll watch my mouth from now on. Sorry."

Carina let the words slide by, looking instead at his face and eyes. Sadness. Crap, were those tears in his eyes? Where was Walker? What had the CIA done to him, to them?

"Don't sweat it, Chuck. That makes us even for the under-the-desk groping. Where's your other half? I got something to run by her before we close up shop."

"Still in the Castle. Lock it down, Carina and then take off. We'll do the final closings when we leave and shouldn't be far behind you. Again, sorry for the mouth."

"I'll do that after I get with her on this. Chuck, you sure you're ok?" She'd come around the desk and was standing very close to him, looking up at him and gauging his reaction. None. 'Where is this boy's mind?'

"I'm fine. Have a nice weekend."

He was anything but 'fine'. What had Walker done this time? Or Graham? He was a nice guy in a nice package with a nice package and she liked him, really liked him. Only a month and she was developing sister feelings? Damn her. Those _were_ tears in his eyes.

"I'll just run down to the Castle and take care of this with her."

She went down into the Castle and confronted Sarah slamming the file folder she'd appropriated as an explanation to Chuck down in front of her to get her undivided attention.

"What did you people say to him? Why is he so upset? What CIA 'i' didn't he dot or 't' didn't he cross?"

"What? Who? Carina I don't have any idea what you're talking about. He's fine…unless _you _did or said something?" Momma-grizzly meets Sister-grizzly.

"I just asked him if you two had plans for the weekend and he fired back a crappy comment about how the fleet's in port in San Diego and maybe I should check it out. That was so unChuck."

"That's not why I'm here, Sarah. Chuck had tears in his eyes. Tears. And not from my perfume. Something happened down here to really upset him. He doesn't deserve to be treated like..like…I don't know. He deserves a little happiness and someone down here just had to make sure his time off was ruined. What's with you CIA people?"

"He was fine when he left here, Agent Hansen. The meeting was boring, Chuck was a little more sarcastic that usual with the Director but other than that and a training schedule you'll be involved in, nothing happened. You're sure you're not making som…"

Her eyes had strayed to the file folder and she noticed the date. Something clicked in her mind. "Oh, shit. I forgot all about it. It's his wedding anniversary. Move, Hansen, I have to talk to him now."

"Wait. He's married? You're living with a married man?"

"No, yes, it's complicated. Please move, Carina. I have to talk to him."

"You mean you have to go handle him, don't you, Agent. That's what people like us do, we handle and control. Give him some space for a change, Sarah. He's just a man."

Walker sighed. She should have briefed Carina in more thoroughly but she wanted to keep at least some part of Chuck private and just to her. Break protocol, pay the price. Rules were there for a reason.

"Short version. He married a deep-cover CIA agent. For him it was real, for her it became real. An NSA agent murdered her 6 months later, the agent you replaced, Agent Hansen. They'd just found out she was pregnant. I came on the scene shortly before that on another mission unrelated to his wife's. We met on business. I fell in love with him. It was almost like being struck by lightning. Then she was killed instead of him. And here we are. Now, please, for the love of God, Carina, get out of my way."

Carina shouted at a disappearing Sarah Walker, "I want the long version sometime soon, Walker. All the details. The truth, too. Not some CIA bull for public consumption_." _

'_I want to know why there are tears in __**your**__ eyes, Agent Walker.'  


* * *

_

He wasn't in his office. She walked across the hall and saw he was standing at her large window looking out over the walled garden he'd built for her.

He'd drawn up the plans one night and had it done during a week when they were away on a training/vacation mission after the fiasco at the Radisson. He'd planned the flowers and shrubs and the Koi pond and fountains; he had the work done and paid for so that the first morning back in her office she'd be surprised when she opened the blinds.

Surprised was such an insignificant word to describe the shock, joy, the thrill she felt when she'd opened her closed drapes. There was a yellow sticky note on the window that said only "For Sarah". It was more eloquent than any speech she'd ever read.

He had his back to her but she knew he had heard her enter.

"Chuck, we need to do something for Lynn. For you two. Did you have anything in mind or can we talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about. Just a memory. I didn't mean to enflame Carina's instincts. She caught me in a 'pile of pity' moment. I apologized. Sorry. I'll be more in control in the future. I promise."

Any further conversation was curtailed by her cell phone. Graham. What did he want and why now?

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. I hope you didn't have weekend plans, Sarah. Something's come up that requires your attention. Get your team together for a briefing. One of the NSA programs has picked up a cell conversation that demands immediate attention. I'll be back with you in 30 minutes for a briefing."

"Chuck, we have a mission briefing in 30 minutes. I'll meet you in the Castle. I have to find Carina."

**Castle**

Arthur Graham and another gentleman were sitting at a conference table when the briefing connected and transmission to the Castle was complete.

Chuck flashed on the other man. He was a deputy director for Homeland Security. There was a lot of extraneous junk accompanying the flash but he ignored it. He was clean.

"NSA programs have picked up a cell phone conversation between someone in San Diego and an unidentified party somewhere in the greater Los Angeles area. Both were using prepaid cell phones so there's little to go on as far as identifying the participants although the conversations are being run through a voice recognition database. Maybe we'll get lucky and get a hit.

"The program picked up a key word and recorded the balance of the call. The summary has already been emailed to you along with the transcript. Review it and let me have your action plan within the next 2 hours. Graham out."

"All the real agents must be committed elsewhere if they're reduced to using us." Another snarky comment from Chuck. Sarah ignored it, being in 'agent mode' but Carina sensed the bitterness and patted him on the shoulder.

"Maybe they just recognized our unique combination of talents here, tiger. Have a little faith in yourself, Chuck, I do."

Chuck flashed her a quick smile of thanks and then returned to his previously occupied pile of pity as he'd referred to it. The last thing he wanted today was to spend it with his roommate in 'agent mode'. Lately, just her normal modes were grating on him. They shouldn't, he had what he wanted, but they did. And he was close to a realization about why they grated on him. He was certain he would reach the proper conclusion if only he had the time to let his mind wander.

"Non-linear thinking" is what they labeled it at Stanford. Straight-line thinkers were plodders going from A to B to C and so on. "Non-linears" went from A to B to C and then to F to L to R and V because they recognized patterns or trends or progressions. It's what the Omaha Project was designed to identify, locate and recruit.

It's what Bartowski did best in the world; it's what he did _better_ than the rest of the world. It's why his mind could contain and process the mega-bytes of data forced into it by the intersect download.

Agent Walker presented her 'executive summary' to her team. That's what the CIA termed the explanation the leader gave the led.

"Ok, we have key word anthrax followed by subway followed by Los Angeles. The conversation discusses preparations for placement of 'aerosol distribution units' throughout the subway system as well as museums, public buildings and malls. There is a discussion of casualty projections, health care facility breakdowns and follow up attacks. The accents are thought to be non-English native speakers. The details are to be finalized at a cover meeting to be held tomorrow night at the Museum of Modern Art here in Los Angeles. The actual meeting place and time were not discussed. Apparently these were either already known to the participants or would be determined later."

"According to Graham, the Museum is having a dedication ceremony for a new section of its famous tar pit observatory rooms. Invitation only, black tie and very selective in their invitation listing, big donors only. None of the little people."

"Wait a moment, Sarah, Museum of Modern Art has tar pits, like ancient ooze? Kind of a clash of centuries moment, right?" That sounded like something Chuck would have said but it was Carina who said it.

"Yes, and it's because they were there first and the Museum changed it's concentration later from Natural History to Modern Art. The rich liked things they could relate to, own, and possess, not much you can do with a monkey spit out by the mud after a zillion years."

"Sloths, actually, 3-toed sloths. And it's only been 20,000 years, Agent Walker, not a zillion."

"Thank you, Chuck, that really contributes to our mission planning." Sarah was getting tired of his interruptions. He really should show more respect for her as team leader.

"Actually, Agent Walker, it is very relevant. The Kimble Preservation Fund recently endowed the Museum with a $3 million dollar gift to preserve the tar pits as well as complete construction on the funding-starved 'observatories'."

"OK, Chuck, I'll play. And this affects us how exactly?" She was getting so tired of his interruptions and inane comments lately. He was getting worse as time went on. And this was by far the most idiotic of his comments.

"I am the Kimble Preservation Fund, Agent Walker. I endowed the Museum and I have 2 tickets to the opening. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go but you've been focused on other things and didn't have time for the conversation. Rather than bother you with it, I just put the tickets in my desk."

"Chuck, where did you get 3 million dollars?" Sarah was feeling the heat in her face of a growing anger directed toward her asset.

"I tried to explain it to you the other night but you weren't interested in off-shore investment accounts so I transferred their balances to CyberLogicals llc and made the donation. And actually, it was $4.6 million, but after the first million not much matters, does it?"

"Chuck, that was a crime. You can't use your talents to rob innocent people of their investments?"

"Innocent people? He killed my wife, _Agent _Walker. It was his dirty money accrued from doing God knows what and it's substantially more than he ever explained he had to the government auditors. So yeah, I took it and used it to pay for her damned sloths oozing up from the past. Call it paybacks. A living memorial. I don't care what you want to call it. I did it for her. She loved those damned sloths and for some ungodly reason she loved me and…"

He stood and glared at her, and left the Castle.

* * *

"Well, that could have gone better, Agent Walker. I take it John Casey's early retirement fund was undiscovered by the Agency? Your boyfriend's not one to be trifled with. I'll bet he doesn't stop until everything John Casey ever had is in that fund and is endowing things she had interest in. Would have been nice to have known all that, don't you think?"

"Tell me, Sarah, just what is it you do for the intersect because you sure as hell don't do much with him. And I'm not talking sex, Sarah, I'm talking about being his friend, his lover, his partner, his soul mate not just a room mate. You don't seem to have that part down yet, do you? Too bad this Lynn didn't leave notes. She had it down to a science."

Thirty minutes later, Arthur Graham called again for a teleconference.

* * *

**Castle**

"Team, we've managed to identify one of the parties on the call. It is Miroslav Radulovich, a Serbian national who has no known ties to any known terrorist group but who was investigated for war crimes against Moslems in Serbia. We don't have much on him. He just appeared in 2004 and became a person of interest.

Chuck flashed on the name. It was an alias for Bruno Schlieter, a German national who disappeared in 2003 after German and Italian intelligence services confirmed his involvement in several arms transactions and thefts. There was a cross-indexed file and the image of a white orchid filled his mind.

Carina noted Chuck's apparent loss of interest in the briefing and just shook her head in puzzlement. If he were this nonchalant about critical information how would he behave on a real mission?

Sarah had already presented the Team's op plan. She and Chuck would attend as a couple and Carina would remain in the van to record and provide over watch. The issue of the intersect had been skirted and Arthur Graham had indicated his approval when Chuck apparently woke up and voiced an objection.

"Director Graham, Agent Walker cannot participate. She would be recognized and our cover would be blown. Can you please obtain a photograph of Bruno Schlieter from around 2000 and display it, please?

Graham stopped and shot Sarah a glance as if to say, "what the hell is he getting at now?" and she returned it with the one that meant "Hell if I know," but she certainly remembered Bruno Schlieter.

"While it's being retrieved, would you care to enlighten those of us in the dark regarding the relationship between Radulovich and Schlieter?" Director Graham had noted the physical blush that overcame Walker when Schlieter's name first came up.

"Agent Walker was in a deep cover operation in Eastern Europe and was the mistress for her mark, Bruno Schlieter, for more than 4 months. Her mission was terminated for unknown reasons. At least nothing I have access to in the 'special files' I reviewed earlier."

Graham flashed the photo of Chuck Bartowski walking into a hotel in Bonn with Sarah Walker on his arm. The image was of Bruno Schlieter, but the other three participants all saw Chuck.

"Say hello to Miroslav Radulovich, everyone. Now, Director, do you understand why she cannot participate? Do you really believe he will have forgotten his little American student named Jenny Turner?"

Sarah just stared at the screen in silence, a slight blush creeping up her face as she recalled details of her first assignment to seduce a mark.

Carina stared at Chuck in shock and then looked at Sarah and realized he had been correct. She had obviously not forgotten Schlieter either, from the look on her face. But how did he know these things? And how did he make these connections and be so accurate? What were these 'special files'?

"Lightning strikes twice, Agent Walker, twice." Carina said in a low voice meant only for Sarah.

"Carina and I will go in as the couple, but I have to be Chuck Bartowski, not Charles Carmichael. That's the connection to Lynn even thought I did everything in the name of the foundation, Director. Can't be helped, can it? So do we have a go?"

"You have a go, Team. Agent Walker will man the surveillance van and update the special files as needed. Agent Hansen, your job description has changed for this mission. You are to protect Mr. Bartowski from any harm even at the cost of your life. You will obey any sudden changes in orders he may make and you will subordinate yourself to his intentions. Trust him, Agent Hansen, his instincts are that good."

"Sarah, the usual complement of LEOs and NSA strike teams will be positioned for use when the intersec…I mean when the interception is complete. If there are no questions, put the time to good use and do a recon and a plan review."

After the director signed off, Chuck caught Carina's eye and motioned her to return to the office floor. She smiled and touched his arm and left without a glance at the suddenly quiet and small figure of Sarah Walker.

Chuck went over and pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her. She just stood woodenly, not returning his embrace or resisting it, either.

"Sarah, I know this will be hard for you. I'm sorry, but I couldn't let you run the risk of being compromised – again. If I could have found another excuse to stop this mission I'd have done so but you and Graham were too far ahead of me and I couldn't find a reason to stop the briefing with Carina here. I'm so sorry, babe. I'll see you upstairs."

"Chuck, how could you possibly know about him? Art purged the files. He saved my career and you just plucked the information out of the air. It wasn't in the intersect data, was it. How did you know?"

"Art purged the data but not the visual cues. He couldn't do that. And Sarah, you have a very distinctive cue, remember, the white orchid. I found several bits of data and just did what I do best. I'm just sorry Hansen was here. And I had no idea the photo of Schlieter would have you in it. I wasn't being flip, Sarah. I'll see you when you're ready to go home. If you need more time, I'll get Carina to drop me off at the apartment."

"Why are you like this? Why are you being so nice? Why aren't you angry, jealous, upset, the things you should be if you really loved me. How can you be so coldly analytical about these things and ignore what they mean?"

"I'm a nice guy, Sarah. I knew after the first time we made love and it wasn't my name you whimpered once, just once, and I knew then what the photo confirms. I understand you better than you think. I knew I'd been compared to something and failed to measure up to whatever standard you set. As for really loving you, I do and I'm probably in love with you but it's not going to happen, is it?"

She just stood woodenly unmoving, without response.

"I'll get Carina to drop me off at the apartment. It's OK, Sarah, I'm sure Art will reconsider terminating this assignment. You're his 'baby girl' and he can't deny you anything any more than I could."

* * *

Chuck went up the stairs to the office. First Jill, then his Lynn, then Ellie and now his Sarah. He kept losing the women in his life just when he needed them the most.

"Carina, Sarah is still working on her operation and I need a ride home. Can you drop me off at the apartment? I have some rearranging to do and I want it done before she gets back. Like pulling tape off stitches, Carina, one, two ouch, three. Works every time."

"Chuck, if you just want to talk or hang out, please, I'm not hitting on you, you've been hit hard enough. Just call me. I'm a good listener and I'd love a long ride on your Harley. Give you time to think and you won't be alone. I could use the company. I won't talk much either. It's so damned unfair, Chuck. I could just scream."

"I'll tell you what, drop me off, I'll change into my leathers and you go change into jeans and a heavy jacket and I'll pick you up in 20 minutes. I doubt she'll be home for quite a while. She's probably on the phone with the Pimp getting plane tickets as we speak. It'll let her save face and clear out her stuff. I want to ask you something about a remark you made but it'll wait. Let's get the hell out of this insane asylum."

* * *

In deed, Walker was on the phone with Arthur Graham.

"Uncle Art, I thought all the data was purged. I thought everything was cleaned up. How could this happen? How could it happen now when things were going so well and we were making progress?"

"He's the intersect, baby girl. He can do almost anything with that mind of his; anything except figure out why the woman he loves treats him like a substitute lover. But now we know, don't we, Sarah. Oh, he's never said a damned thing about it. He wouldn't ever make a comment about you to me, not because of who I am but because of who _he_ is."

"You won't find a better man on God's green Earth than Chuck Bartowski. Comparing him to that scumbag you were involved with is like comparing your Porsche to a broken roller skate. I will not relieve you from this assignment. Good-bye, baby girl. Time to walk the walk for real. Lynn did, and she became a better person for it. Don't call me again unless it's business. You're grown up and Cathy was right, I spoil you. Well, no more."

She left the castle and went to her office to think. She stared out the window at the garden Chuck had given her. 'For Sarah'. She had been different since they'd made love. She had been distant and somewhat reserved. He'd asked her and she'd denied it. He called it a watershed moment for them.

She had compared the two and God help her she found Chuck to be less than she'd had and she'd reacted so unfairly. She remembered perfection when it had been anything but. She remembered being loved when it was being used. She'd been 18 and her memory had protected her, rationalized and altered memories to match her ideal.

She dreaded returning to that apartment. She knew it would be empty. He'd finally admitted to being in love with her and she had turned from him when he needed her the most. It just wasn't her reaction to the photo and what it meant, it had been his reaction.

He'd already surmised that he was always going to come in second and he'd been ok with that. Now he wouldn't be so sure. Now doubts about anything and everything she'd ever said to him would creep into his mind like mice into a granary.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski**

Chuck stripped off his suit, shirt and tie and just threw them on the bed. He no longer cared. It wasn't important. He'd find a way to work with Carina but he would never allow a woman to gain any foothold in his heart ever again.

He'd have to get a new apartment. He couldn't stay here any longer. Too many ghosts, too many memories and too little real happiness.

He was far from being suicidal. He wanted to live if for no other reason than to find out what disaster would come next.

He was out of the apartment and on his bike in less than 10 minutes. He figured he could do worse than bend Carina's ear. She'd be his partner and it was only fair to let her in on all the crap that would entail. She'd bail within a year, he knew that. Then the next one would leave and then the next. Finally, he'd either be killed for the intersect or by it. And it made no difference.

Carina discovered that riding with Chuck Bartowski was a safe and secure experience. She wasn't quite sure what to expect but after his stern lecture about safety and where and where not to put her hands, she knew she had nothing to worry about as long as the wheels were turning. It was when they stopped that she'd worry. Until then she just enjoyed holding him and running her fingers over his tight stomach. The secret pockets had been a pleasant surprise.

His jeans were loose around the waist as if he'd lost a lot of weight and she mischievously thought about running her fingers down the front of his abdomen and see just far she could push him but decided that forbidden pleasure might come later. Right now he needed her, not a romp on the beach, but a human being to talk to.

* * *

**Malibu Beach**

He parked the bike, pulled two blankets from the carrier and took her hand. She'd worn leather boots with spike heels and it was a fashion choice not a beach choice. He'd laughed and mumbled something about spies and spiked heels and led her to 'his spot'.

He put down a blanket, spread it out and sat on one corner with his legs pulled up towards his chest and his legs spread, feet well apart. He patted the sand in front of his crotch and motioned for her to sit on the corner of the blanket between his legs with her back against him.

When Carina sat down and he pulled the first blanket around her and then the other around him she realized that she would be out of the wind and amazingly comfortable and secure feeling.

First he told her that as his probable partner she needed to know all about the needy, nerdy Chuck Bartowski. He told her about Ellie, about his father, about what he'd done, how they'd survived and about Ellie's baby. By that time she'd turned in her seat, swung her legs over his in a parody of sex and hugged him to her telling him to hold on to her, that she wasn't judging, just listening. And if he cried or she cried it would be their secret.

Chuck told her about Lynn, about meeting her, ignoring her, helping her and finally about the reluctant first date, the whole courtship and how he'd asked her to move in and eventually about the engagement and the marriage. She'd laughed out loud when he told her some of her comments, like getting naked and doing the dishes, about mentally packing and about finally admitting how she really loved him.

Through tears Chuck told her about her death, his promises, how he discovered Casey's involvement, how Agent Walker came to find him and save him from the surf, how he'd plotted his revenge and how Sarah Walker had left him, only to return and move into his heart and life.

She asked him about the freighter incident since he'd become something of a legend in the Customs Service, the 'bad ass dude' who avenged four dead Customs agents and took out an enemy agent while holding his guts in with one hand and throwing him over the railing with the other. The DEA worked hand-in-hand with Customs and she'd heard the same tale more than once. After he'd corrected some parts of her tale he told her how Sarah had been on the phone, not Casey and how she'd come to realize she loved him. He choked up then and she just kissed him softly and told him to take his time. They had all night and she was as comfortable as she'd been with a man in a long time.

Finally he got around to the grandfather and how he'd discovered Lynn was an agent, his agent, and that Graham had failed to recruit him for his stable. He told her about Sarah's unknowing role in taking out the Tong and the Generals. She laughed out loud until tears rolled down her cheeks at his 'exit strategy' and cried when he told her about the significance of the Tango.

Finally, he covered his discovery of Lynn's files on him and her daily reports.

She unzipped his leather jacket and pulled his t-shirt out of his pants and ran a finger down and across the long scar the NK had given him. She shuddered thinking this wonderful man might be dead but for a fluke of distance and angle.

She cursed Sarah Walker for using him to recreate a phantom love and for being the fourth heartbreaker in his life. She resolved, then and there, that she would make this man hers, and protect him. She was in awe of him and that would do for now.

* * *

**CyberLogicals llc**

It was a little after 1am when he dropped Carina off at her apartment and then rode by the offices to check on a program he'd been running to see if he could quantify the _Bartowski Process_ for commercial use. He figured if nothing else, it might pay for the additional staff they were considering. If Carina assumed the role of his partner full time she couldn't be sitting at the front desk monitoring the door cams and that meant adding a full-time person to the staff. Chuck was thinking of using a retired agent but he'd leave that up to Carina.

He did his end-of-day walk around and then went down to the Castle to make sure it had been secured and the units running their nightly cycle. Chuck was about to turn out the lights when he heard a sob from the detention area. 'Aw, crap, she's still here.'

He walked back and there she was, lying on one of the bunks, curled in a ball and softly crying in her sleep. He was just going to find a blanket to cover her with when she started mumbling his name in her sleep. He pulled a blanket off the other bunk and covered her with it. Her clothes would be a wrinkled mess and he knew how fastidious she was about her 'professional attire'. He'd have to remember to bring over her shampoo and a change of clothes so she wouldn't have to face Carina looking less than perfect.

He left the Castle and a sleeping Agent Walker and made the short trip back to the apartment. At this time of night there was virtually no traffic. He walked into their room and opened a trip bag and put her shampoo and makeup junk, her brushes and toothpaste in the outer pouch.

He went into her closet and pulled out what he hoped was a complete business suit and then pulled a white blouse from her drawer and placed them in the bag. A quick selection of underwear and he was done. Riding back to the office with a garment bag over his shoulder was not a treat he wanted to repeat anytime soon if at all.

Chuck parked his bike next to her Porsche and keyed the entry code and walked down into the Castle. He walked back to the detention unit and hung the bag from a hook on the outside of the door where she would be sure to see it, wrote a sticky note and stuck it on the bag, set her travel alarm for 6am and left.

The ride back to the apartment was longer than any of the other legs, or so it seemed. Going back to an empty apartment made no sense when all he wanted was asleep in a detention cell. There was a joke there someplace but he was damned if he could find it.

It was almost 3am when he completed his duties. He ran through the shower and was asleep within seconds.

* * *

**Castle Detention Cell  
CyberLogicals llc**

When her travel alarm bleeped her awake she was momentarily disoriented. Instead of her soft bed with a hard body beside her she was lying on a hard palette and covered with a blanket not 200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.

It took her a second to identify where she was and it all came flooding back to her. The op plan, Chuck's objection, the photograph, his disappointment and Carina's comment. Crap. And to make matters worse she'd fallen asleep in her clothes, not something she did normally.

When she looked up and saw her garment bag hanging from a hook outside the cell she knew he'd found her, covered her and once again gone beyond the pale to take care of her, ensuring she didn't have to face Carina Hansen looking like a $2 fleet whore.

The sticky note simply said 'Sarah, if it doesn't match, don't kill me. Picking out your clothes is not my usual thing.'

She would not cry. She would not cry. The outfit was perfect and he'd even managed to get the bra/panties to match. She knew he wasn't one to dig through her drawers so either he was lucky or just good. She would wear the boots again, no big deal. She opened the travel pouch and found that he'd anticipated her needs but she had neglected his. She would not cry.

* * *

**Los Angeles, CA  
Museum of Modern Art  
LaBrea Tar Pits Park  
9am**

Chuck and Carina did a pre-mission drive-by of the Museum. Sarah had printed out the floor plan for them and they were spotting the entrances and exits. They turned back to the park area behind the Museum and Chuck parked the car and took Carina by the hand strolled through the park.

She was like a little kid pulling him toward each of the life-sized statues that portrayed the creatures that had been discharged from the ooze over the years. She was mostly fascinated by the sloths.

"They are so big, Chuck. And those claws. They actually lived here when man did? Incredible."

"Actually, man arrived on this continent about 12,000 years ago. It's highly doubtful any of these creatures had survived until then. But who knows, Carina. Maybe in another life you were a cave girl wearing scanty furs and running from the sloths."

She had let her long hair fall naturally and once again her natural beauty took him aback. She had perfect skin and little use for what make-up she was wearing. No wonder few mortal men could resist her onslaught. He remembered her kindness from last night and the way she'd molded herself to him, not being sexual but certainly sensual, yet just providing him with human contact. It was so natural.

Carina knew that she was a substitute at that moment for both his wife and Sarah Walker. It was far too soon to think about trying to form anything other than a sincere friendship. Last night had marked a milestone in her life. She's assumed an incredibly intimate position with a man she was attracted to and kept her clothes on. She laughed out loud and saw Chuck's puzzled look.

"Sorry, just feeling good today."

"Carina, what did you mean when you said 'lightning strikes twice' to Walker yesterday?"

"Chuck, it was just a slam at her. Nothing more. I was just pissed for the way Miss GG had been treating you. Oh, look, the Tar Pits. Not what I expected. Where are the tortured animals rising from the muck?"

"Carina Hansen, that's a lame line if ever I heard one. And it's not going to work. If you wanted to burn her you would have said it louder. This was more like a musing. So, spill it unless you want to be observed 'rising from the muck' in 12,000 years."

"Ok, ok, keep you pants on. I got a mini-briefing yesterday, just enough so that I'd shut up and get out of her way. She said she fell in love with you when she first met you. She said it was like being struck by lightning. Satisfied? Make you feel better? Chuck, you know what I meant. That guy and you, the same person 10 years apart. Lightning strikes twice. I'm sorry, but you asked."

"Don't be sorry for telling the truth. There have been too many lies in my life. 'Need to know, Chuck. That's classified, Chuck.' I don't see how you people can live in the last six inches of the world's intestines and keep sane."

"Who said I was sane, Chuck? I find you incredibly attractive. You're a lighting rod for broken girl spies, Bartowski. You should come with a warning label, '_Being around him is dangerous to your profession but a blessing to your soul_.' Last night on the beach, Chuck, I've never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted you. It wasn't a sexual thing; it was an emotional want with a capital W. It wasn't pity, it was almost a raw emotional craving to merge with you and be one."

"I know, too many Harlequins late at night with a battery-operated boyfriend but it's the life we live in the spy world, Chuck. Separated from kith and kin with only our wits and body as tools to survive. With controllers pushing our buttons and pulling our strings then along comes a darling man like you, Chuck Bartowski, and WHAM, we're so much toast."

* * *

**CyberLogicals llc**

They got back to the office and Carina went to check the dailies and Chuck went to his office. Sarah's Porsche was not in its usual spot and Chuck had a sinking feeling it wouldn't be there again. Her office door was closed and he decided he didn't want to know what was on the other side. Seeing it stripped of all her personal touches would have been a little too final for him. Better not to know. He was more concerned right now with how the mission would be conducted with a missing team member.

Two suits appeared at the door and buzzed for admittance. She could see from the scanners that they were both armed. One of them carried a flat box and the other just stood there.

She punched the warning button and heard the soft chime repeat itself throughout the office. If anyone else had been here they would have headed for the Castle armory to suit up and distribute weapons, but it was only the two of them and only she had a weapon. Software development firms rarely armed themselves.

She buzzed them in and tried to appear secretarial. The hands-free suit said that they had a delivery for Charles Carmichael from his Uncle Art and needed a signature. She reached for the clipboard on top of the package when hands-free said "Sorry, Mr. Carmichael himself must sign for it. It's a restricted delivery." There was no way she was letting an unarmed Chuck approach these two. The situation fairly screamed "Assassination Attempt."

Hands-free blinked when her Glock appeared in his crotch. In a low and sultry voice Carina warned him to leave the package and get the hell out or she'd blow his nuts off and cap the box boy before he could reach for his weapon.

Hands-free smiled and said "Well done, Agent Hansen. The director told us you were rather protective. Tell Chuck to wear what's in the box tonight. And he said to tell him his exit strategy better consist of more than 'blow a big hole in the wall and exit."

Box boy snickered. "Oh, yeah. That's classic Bartowski. The Director tells that story all the time. More like a 'don't do this but…' story. Seriously, Agent, make sure he wears this tonight. Uncle Art would be hurt if he didn't."

They dropped the box on her desk and turned to leave, one elbowing the other and saying softly, "His other handler is probably waiting by the car. So don't do anything foolish, Lenny. I want to go home tonight, not to the hospital. This guy is as scary as they come."

Once the two suits were out of the building Carina scooped up the package and ran down to the Castle. She popped the scan box and put the package inside. The machine hummed, whirled, clicked and buzzed as she watched an x-ray image show a mass of clothing, the sniffer clicked and buzzed indicating no explosive compounds detected so she opened the box.

A tuxedo shirt. Nicely starched and folded. The fabric felt strange but then it was a gift from Uncle Art the purveyor of Strange. The note said 'Bartowski, wear the damned shirt. For once in my lifetime, do exactly as you're told.' She looked forward to seeing him in it later.

She took the reboxed shirt up to his office. He hadn't even noticed the alarm. "Chuck, you have to learn to follow procedures. You're unarmed and those two might not have been who they said they were. What would you have done if they'd taken me out? You have no weap…"

She stopped talking when the M1911 Colt .45 appeared in his hand.

"I would have killed them both, Carina. Now, what's in the package?"

* * *

By 3pm Chuck was resigned to the fact that she was gone. He walked down into the Castle and her clothes from the previous day, her bag and toiletries were gone. She'd even made the bunk she'd slept on and refolded the blanket from the other. It was like she'd never been there except for the faintest hint of vanilla in the air.

He had little or no choice but to go solo unless the mission was scrubbed.

"Graham, secure."

"Bartowski, secure. Walker's gone and there's just the two of us. I'll leave Carina in the van and go solo unless you have another option I'm unaware of? What about one of the suits who delivered your present? Thanks, by the way. Cool beans high tech. The suit could sit in the van and make copious notes…"

"Chuck, don't count her out. I haven't heard from her since yesterday afternoon. She didn't come home last night?"

"Nope. She spent the night here sleeping in a detention cell. I brought her a change of clothes and her toiletries and left them around 3am. She hasn't been in this morning. I figured you'd relieved her and she was on her way back to D.C. and a real life. She was gone when I got here this morning and I've been busy with a recon and pre-mission planning. So how about sending one of those suits over?"

"How about we scrub the mission instead? Just swoop down and arrest the bunch of them and break out the water boards."

"You're kidding, right? You'd have to detain the entire guest list of L.A.'s most notables to make sure you got the right two or three. No, Art, send in the suit and I'll send in the clowns. You can dream up a back story for my unique abilities. I'll have Carina on my arm for security. Should be easy as cake, Art."

"Pie, Chuck, easy as pie. Have you got an exit strategy planned if the crap hits the fan? It seems to do that whenever you're involved. And I don't mean blow a hole in the wall, either."

"Yeah. Keep aware of nearest exit and have Carina flash her boobs at any bad guys. Should give us an extra moment's advantage. Then run. Art, seriously, you're not running an op here using Sarah as bait for this guy, are you? I'm just not the cover story? Wouldn't put it past you."

"Nope. Yours is the only game in town. I'll let you know about the suit, kid. Watch your ass tonight, Chuck. I got a bad feeling about this. Abort the mission at your discretion, you're team leader. Don't take any unnecessary risks and bring them all home."

"You're so positive and confident. How can we possibly fail? You always this bubbly before sending others to their deaths, O Great Oz?" He hung up before Graham could retort. The Pimp was worried. Not a good sign. He definitely knew more that he was letting on. Why did he feel a bulls' eye on his back? He knew Graham. Plots within plots.

By 4:30 he was totally convinced it would be just the two of them. He closed down his equipment and told Carina to go and put on her war paint and he'd pick her up by 7pm.

"Are we using your Harley, Chuck? It'll mess up my hair." She laughed and told him she'd see him and the limo she ordered at 7pm. It would pick them both up at her place and she would see him for a light snack and final briefing around 6pm.

He hadn't considered a limo. Thank God someone was thinking. He sure wasn't. He needed to get his head into the game and fast if this was to succeed. He went down to the Castle and returned with the commo gear he figured he and Carina would need assuming Art got the suit in place.

He rode back to his apartment and showered and threw all his stuff in his "CIA bag" along with the commo gear. He would change at Carina's. He'd forgotten the shirt at the office and stopped by to pick it up. Her Porsche was in its usual spot in front of the office. _'I do not have time for this. No time for a confrontation and certainly no time for her long explanations or lectures. I have a mission and Carina's waiting.'  


* * *

_

**CyberLogicals llc**

He went into his office and retrieved the box, removed the folded shirt and put it in the CIA bag. Experience told him it wouldn't wrinkle.

"Are you going dressed like that, Chuck?"

He turned to her and said "No, I'm not going like this. All my goodies are in the bag along with the commo gear. I'm changing at Carina's. The limo will pick us up at 7pm and we'll go on from there. Art's sending a suit to pick up the van here and deploy somewhere behind the Museum. Good thing she's around. I forgot all about a limo. She's not fond of riding the Harley in evening wear and messed up hair."

Sarah stiffened but didn't respond. It was a statement of fact, not a criticism. She'd learned that early on in her relationship with Chuck. Most criticism was self-directed. He rarely brought the faults of others into conversations. It was just the way he was.

"I'll be in the van. I already cleared it with the Director. We're good to go. I'll run the commo check when I see the limo arrive. Have a good mission, Chuck. I'll see you later at the apartment, OK?"

"We abort at the first sign of trouble. I do not trust the Pimp. He was entirely too tentative about this whole mess. He wanted to scrub the mission, then he wanted to just arrest everyone, then he finally agreed but told me he had a bad feeling about this and as Team Leader I was to abort at the first sign of a problem, real or imagined. A real confidence builder. At the apartment? Yeah, sure, whatever, Agent Walker."

Chuck left and rode to Carina's. He didn't see Sarah Walker walk dejectedly to the window and watch him leave. He was in love with a woman who was in love with someone who looked like he did but from a decade earlier. Chuck knew that no good could come of such a relationship but like a moth to the flame he was drawn to her.

The agent in Walker asserted itself. She went down to the Castle and suited up for her mission. She knew Carina would be armed but that Chuck would not carry a weapon. He didn't like guns which was odd for someone who had such a propensity for trouble.

* * *

He arrived at Carina's apartment complex a little after 6pm. She buzzed him through the security gate and then met him outside her apartment on the patio. From the look on her face he knew what she was going to say.

"Stop. I've just had this conversation. No, this isn't what I'm wearing. My stuff's in the bag along with the commo gear. Walker's back and will be manning the van and will check in with us when she sees get out at the Museum. Now, anything else to complain about?" She laughed and led him into her lair.

Chuck drank a beer and told Carina about the conversations with Graham. He was standing in the hall talking when she walked out of her bedroom wearing just a thong and her gown draped over her arm.

"I need some help here. The damned zipper is stuck. Can you help me wiggle into this without totally destroying my hair? Chuck? Yoo hoo, earth to Chuck!"

He shook his head to clear out the lusty images his psyche was bombarding him with and looked her in the face. "Give me the dress, please, Carina. You're going to be the death of me yet. Um, turn around and put your hands above your head and I'll just lower it down, um, yeah." He pulled it down carefully so as not to muss her hair and then pulled it down over her buttocks using the hem.

"Um, please, finish it up yourself. I need another beer or four. My God I'm only 26 and I've got chest pains. Woman, what part of modesty eludes you? I mean, you're incredible but some things should be… oh, to hell with it. Let me know when you're done and I'll zip you up." He walked down toward the kitchen mumbling about crazy beautiful women and she laughed at his nervousness. Walker sure missed the boat with this one. Cute, smart, a real gentleman. Not like most of the scum they had to entertain.

A few minutes later she walked into the kitchen, took his beer from his hand and drained it then kissed him lightly on the lips and turned and commanded, 'Zip me!' She looked incredible. The gown was the same color as her hair and complemented her skin. She was wearing those 4 inch heels than brought her eyes up to the level of his throat. The dress was the exact opposite of the one Walker had worn on New Years' Eve, low in the front, really low cut but well above her buttocks in the back.

"Carina, you sure do clean up nicely. But I'm curious? How do you walk in those ridiculous shoes? Wouldn't you feel more comfortable in something a little less dramatic?"

She leaned back against him after he'd zipped her up.

"No. Do not criticize my shoes. I'm short, all right, and it's a sensitive thing with me. I envy those tall women who can wear anything. I have to be careful or I'll look short and dumpy."

Chuck put his arms around her, carefully, since he did not want to create a 'little Chuck moment'. "Carina, the only way you could look short and dumpy, well, hell, I can't think of one. You look incredible. I don't know how you're going to walk in a gown that tight, though. I guess we'll take baby steps?" And he laughed. She giggled and did something with her dress and he heard the sound of Velcro ripping apart.

She stood up straight, turned and put one of her feet in his lap. The gown fell away from her leg revealing a slit in the front all the way to where it shouldn't. Oh, damn, he was in so much trouble. Again.

She laughed, totally delighted with this refreshing man who seemed to know all about everything but nothing about women. It seemed almost criminal to have such fun.

"Chuck, when you're ready, we can go. The limo's here." She was staring at his crotch and smiling broadly. "When ever you're ready, big boy." She laughed and grabbed a matching wrap and a small pistol-sized purse and swayed towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Coming, Charles?"

* * *

Once in the limo, Chuck distributed the comms gear. Her mike went in her purse, the pickup became a jewel on the clasp. Chuck wrapped his inside his cuff. All they needed was the tone from Agent Walker to signify the working status. Carina carried a small camera in her purse, the lens a jewel on the outer surface, to pick up whatever Chuck decided was important. She knew nothing of the flashes.

The drive to the museum was short and they got out to the welcome tone signifying a communications link. "Chuck, up". "Carina, up". Carina decided to have a little fun at Walker's expense. She turned to Chuck and pulled his head down for a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss and then whispered into her purse mike "_Now_ Chuck's up". She laughed imagining the look on Walker's face. Tough. She threw him away. He was hers to pursue now.

Chuck was horribly red. "Carina, stop the crap this minute. Play with Agent Walker's mind on your own time. And leave me out of your little mind games. I'm nervous enough as it is." Sarah had heard the exchange over the comms and could only guess what had made Chuck react so uncharacteristically.

Carina looked up at him, demurely for her, and said "Sorry, boss. Lead on, oh great and manly master." She grinned up at him knowing there was little he could do until they were off mission.

Sarah Walker had just mentally finished flaying the skin off Carina Hansen and removing her assets to dry and use as very small trash bags.

* * *

**L.A. County Museum of Modern Art  
8pm**

A TV crew was just inside the Museum. The mayor and county supervisors were there and it was good politics to be seen on TV in an election year especially at some event that benefited the city and county without skinning the taxpayers.

He presented his tickets to the flunkies at the door and was greeted as if he truly was the manly master. Well, money had a way of making things happen. And an amount the size of his endowment carried a huge impact. Three million bucks was not chicken feed to cash-starved charities.

They were announced and you'd think that by pressing flesh they could get some his money. He recognized the mayor and his wife, the former governor, the presidents of at least ten large banks but no flashes. There were the obligatory handshake pictures with the mayor, a county supervisor and a councilwoman. Once they'd passed through the gauntlet of greed he'd pulled Carina to the side. To any one watching, it would look like a brief lover's quarrel followed by a mini-session of make-up sex.

"Carina, I mean it, cut the crap. Don't look like I stepped on your favorite toy either. I'm growing immune to the tears of intelligence operatives. They don't mean crap. Just another trick. So, here's the deal. I will wander around the room with you as arm candy and if tighten my arm against yours, follow my gaze and take a picture for Agent Walker to run through recog software. Now, kiss me like we just had a brief tiff and lets get on with it. I haven't seen anyone even remotely resembling our target."

She pulled his head down and attacked his mouth, invading it with her tongue and sucking his into her mouth. Chuck pulled back and shot her a glare. "Carina, please. Just this one time, just please quit thinking with your pubes and let's get this done." He smiled at her as if forgiving her but she could tell she'd pushed him almost too far. She just nodded and cursed herself when she felt tears well up. It wasn't a trick.

Sarah Walker was beside herself. She'd shredded her coffee cup and was working on the arm of her Captain's Chair in the van. So far she'd just used fingernails but she was considering whipping out a knife for the headliner. 'Pubes,' indeed. That wench needed a lesson in behaving like a lady in public.

Chuck walked around and mingled, pulling a flute of champagne for Carina but not drinking himself. He was too wired and apprehensive. Something was not right and he couldn't figure it out.

The head of the endowment committee spotted Chuck and Carina and made a beeline for them. An older woman of 60, she had obviously paid off the student loans of several Beverly Hills plastic surgeons but was pushing it. Gravity would win. It always did.

"Mr. Bartowski, oh, it's such a great pleasure to meet you and to thank you personally for your generous endowment in memory of your wife."

"Yes, well she had this thing for your sloths and it seemed like a better bet than feeding an entire third world country lunch. These things will be around long after we're gone. It seemed appropriate."

"Well, after your speech we'll have dancing and I'd like you to meet some of our board members."

"Speech? What speech. I gave you money and now you want words, too? Speech about what?" Chuck was not a public speaker. The very thought made his palms sweat.

"Why at the dedication of the observation areas. I'm sure a few words won't tax such a successful software developer. So, be prepared in about 10 minutes."

"Want me to write a speech for you, Chuck? I have the time." Sarah's snarky voice filled his ear. He ignored it. He was ignoring her, now_. How does it feel, Agent Walker? Don't like it one damned bit, do you? And it's Carina on his arm, not you. It should be you but it isn't. Know why, Agent Walker? Because users are losers. He's not your precious Bruno, is he? He's better and it's too late now. You threw him away._

"Carina, is he ignoring me or do we have a comms problem?"

"Um, I'm not sure. He looks like he's asleep or something. Is he sick?" '_Oh, no, he's flashing_' thought Sarah.

"No, it means he's seen something and he's trying to find it in his brain. Protect him Carina. This is when he's most vulnerable. Don't let him fall or walk into anything." She was trying to disguise the flash as something closer to a seizure.

Chuck was flashing but it made no sense. Visual cues followed by blank pages. It finally dawned on him that he'd breached the cues and found where the deleted files had been. His mind interpreted those as blank pages.

"Walker, I got trapped in a visual cue array of Art's deleted records. Man, what a rush. We're proceeding with the mission."

Carina just stared at Chuck as if he'd grown a new head. He got trapped where?

"Let's go Shortstuff, we got people to see." He led her away and back towards the rear of the museum presentation hall. He finally spotted his target. Like looking in a mirror 10 years in the future. "Carina, older me and man, 10 o'clock. Swarthy looking dude 4 o'clock. Whoa, there's Bruno, Walker. I'm losing my hair in the future apparently."

"Chuck, the guy with Schlieter is Ronald Dorffman, a big man with ELF and probably a front man for other radical groups. His father's money keeps him out of trouble and out of the country most of the time.

He flashed on the name. "His father was a big contributor to the Museum as well as owning a small oil refining operation south of Santa Barbara. Nothing related to subways or Los Angeles or Anthrax. Dead end, Sarah. Moving on."

"Chuck, the other guys is Ari Figueroa…" "Sarah, stop." He flashed, Shining Path, extermination camps, Maoist groups, and germ warfare in Cambodia.

"Sarah, run a complete listing of all of Dorffman's father's companies. There's got to be a connection. What else does he manufacture or distribute?"

"Chuck, here comes the blue-haired old lady for your speech." Oh, crap.

"Carina, tag the 4 with the heaters behind Bruno. Let me know what Walker develops. I'm closing down comms for this ridiculous, totally off-the-cuff speech. Wasn't the money enough?"

Carina laughed. He was so Chuck sometimes. Nerdy and needy but always lovable. "Hey, GG, my guy's off comms for his speech. He's really nervous so watch his heartbeat. I don't want him stroking out on me…" She laughed knowing she'd just ragged on Walker and she couldn't respond.

Sarah just clenched her teeth. She would deal with the $2 ho' in her own way and in her own time. Who the hell is she to say 'my guy' when referring to Chuck. He's still up for grabs and I want him. She'd just explain things to him. He would understand and forgive her. He always did. _'Yeah, he always __**did**__, but what about now? _

She got back on mission and reviewed the query responses. She hoped Chuck's speech was short and sincere and then he could get back on comms. She didn't like it when he was out of touch.

Chuck was on the dais and behind a podium. He didn't have a clue what to say so he decided to talk to his wife.

"Well, Lynn, here I am, standing in front of some of L.A.'s most influential people, sweaty palms and all. I hope you like what I've done. Your sloth will rise up a whole 3 centimeters in the next hundred years and people will be able to see and appreciate his efforts and cheer him on. I think you'd like that. Personally, I never found your fascination with sloths of much value except when it came to yours truly. Then I appreciated it very much. You gave me more than I deserved and I gave you so little in return."

"I found your list and I've completed the B's. I did skip Belly Dancing, though."

"So, rather than bore these folks with the tale of Lynn and Chuck and the Sloths I'll just let them keep the money and let folks get on with their evening. Thank you, Lynn, for everything, especially for tolerating your bony-assed round-eyed surfer boy with such undeserved grace."

I miss you, baby, every single day. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The applause was slow to start but soon filled the hall with noise. People were touched and wanted to show it. It was an emotional moment for more than one of them.

The Chief Museum moneygrubber gave Chuck a hug that let him know some of her assets predated silicone. She had been one of those touched and her running mascara showed. He extricated himself as quickly as possible and went in search of Carina.

He found her, standing and watching the targets and their toughs. When he touched her on the shoulder she whirled around, saw it was he and hugged him to her. She'd been crying. Part of Chuck was touched but part of him wondered if her make up would run down her face and eventually onto his shirt. Part of him was always practical. But part of Chuck Bartowski was more interested in the incredible body embracing his.

"Hey, Carina, it's ok. I didn't mean to upset you. I just didn't know what else to say. I'm sorry if it upset you."

She leaned back and looked up at him and then started blubbering again. He would never understand women. "Come on, Carina, we got a mission and I need you with me on this, honey. You can feel sorry for Lynn later."

Sarah Walker had also been touched. She knew he'd loved his wife but the intimacy displayed in those few words had touched more than one cold heart. And had broken one. _'Oh, yeah, but you didn't seem to catch the "see you soon, I promise" did you, Agent Walker?' _She heard him speak so gently and caring to Carina. And he called her 'honey' and thought that people felt sorry for Lynn. What a lovable idiot he was.

He sent Carina off in search of a make up fix and wandered over to the bar and got a beer. All they had was imported chicken piss so he got the least offensive to his palate and destroyed it. He was on his fourth and beginning to feel the premonition fade when his current handler showed up again, still red eyed but with make up restored.

"You look dazzling, Carina. When they play something I can dance too, will you, please?"

She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Yes, people would say he was needy, like how he asked her to dance as if it were for him, but it was really because he wanted to dance with her. It made her feel special.

"Oh, shit. The Tango." Chuck blanched. Of course, Carina knew from reading the mission reports the devastating effectiveness of Bartowski and the Tango. She would experience it for herself before she believed it.

"You promised me, Chuck. Now, take me you big idiot and show me your stuff."

"Oh, shit, Carina, please I…" "Tango or I'll embarrass the crap out of you, Chuck Bartowski." Her hand was cupping his crotch. He grabbed it and whisked her to the dance floor. After a few faltering steps it all came back to him, those wasted Saturday afternoon dance lessons sponsored by the do-gooders. Oh, well. Must be paybacks for those slashed tires.

It didn't take long for others to note that Bartowski knew how to Tango. As with the party at the Pink Pustule, couples began leaving the dance floor to watch and also to escape comparison. Bruno Schlieter was particularly fascinated. He'd noticed a resemblance during Chuck's dedication speech and now closer, he saw the uncanny resemblance.

Carina knew she was in trouble. She shouldn't have taunted him. She could feel the heat of his body through her thin gown and with every twist and turn she became more and more aroused. Her gown flew up around her thighs on more than one occasion and she deliberately pressed her mound against his leg and rode the turn. Oh, God, but she had never been led around by her sex before but he was masterfully bringing her closer and closer to the end of the dance. He leaned down and whispered, "We need to get onto the observation deck, Carina." She shuddered and grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the doors leading to the deck before the song even ended.

* * *

When Chuck was sure the doors had closed he keyed his wrist mike. "Ok, Walker, what have you got on the father's other interests? Walker? Walker, you read me? Carina, are you reading me?"

Carina was sitting on a bench, numb and aroused and astounded all at the same time. He wanted a mission update? After that? She wanted to screw his ears off and he wanted a status report? Was he crazy after all? Was he asexual? Wasn't he affected by any of it?

Sarah Walker was sitting in the surveillance van not really aware of herself. She had just listened to Chuck have sex with Carina Hansen while dancing the tango. She'd taken off her earpiece and mike and was sitting in a confused funk.

Finally she heard a buzzing and realized someone was yelling in the earwig.

"Hello?" "Walker, are you on crack? Where have you been? What's the status on the father's other business interests? Sarah?"

"Chuck, oh God, Chuck I'm so sorry. About Lynn, about everything. Chuck, please, don't leave me, please? Give us a chance, one more chance?"

Chuck Bartowski was flummoxed. An interesting word for an interesting situation. "Are either of you two so-called professionals able to pull your heads out of your asses and get me the info I need? Walker, get your head in the game. Jesus, personal shit will have to wait. What are the Pops' other interests?" This is probably why they were losing the intelligence game against such dominant interests as say, Tonga or Nepal or Andorra.

"He, he owns a controlling interest in a pesticides manufacturing firm, a pesticide applicator assembly plant and a lawn sprinkler company. Nothing hits the gong, Chuck."

"Pull his applicator web site. What methods of application does he use?"

While Walker surfed for the information he walked over and put his arms around Carina. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Carina, now please pull it together. I need my partner on this, honey, come on, please?"

Walker groaned. He called her 'partner' and 'honey' and said he needed her. Did he have any idea what affect he'd had on them? Did he care? She'd never seen anyone so mission fixated. _'You seem a little 'fixated' yourself there, Agent Walker. Pot meet Kettle?'_

Chuck would not have said 'mission fixated'. He would have said something like "Let's get this done so we can get out of here, please?" without once indicating that his hurry was prompted by the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck. He had such a sense of foreboding that it almost made him unable to organize his thoughts or maybe it was that imported swill he'd drank so much of.

"Chuck, he uses fancy sprinkler heads that actually turn the liquids to a mist so that distribution can be aided by the wind. Does that help?"

"You did it, Sarah. Call the units and have them raid the applicator assembly and sprinkler companies. That's where the anthrax will be stored in preparation for distribution to the targets. Mist is close enough to an aerosol as to be unimportant. That means tag the son, too. He's the link between Schlieter and Ari. Wait a few minutes until I get Carina in place and we'll take them down here with the team. Good job, Sarah, I knew you could do it." _'You never appreciated his efforts like he does yours, did you, Agent Walker. But will he forgive you?'_

Chuck pulled Carina onto her feet and took her by the hand. "Carina, we're going to execute the take down. I want you to lead the team. I'll watch. You're the pro; I'm just the smart nerd. C'mon, it's Showtime."

Carina went in and approached one of the back exits. The 2 teams were waiting for her signal before storming into the back of the room where the 4 goons and the three would-be terrorists were still standing and discussing something. Each of the armed thugs was standing at a cardinal point and the 3 others were in the center.

One thing bothered Chuck. Why bother meeting in a place so damned public? It wasn't safe, it wasn't smart and it was totally unnecessary. What other reason could they have?

Just then he noticed a set of collision lights flashing past the observation deck. He remembered seeing a helipad when he was here earlier with Carina on a pre-mission recon.

"Sarah, evacuate the building. Have our teams fall back. The anthrax, it's here! Carina, get out of the building and secure the helipad. There's a chopper extracting these scumbags on the helipad. Secure it or drive it off. I'm going out the back."

* * *

Bruno Schlieter had been fascinated by Chuck Bartowski. They looked alike, they behaved alike so it was natural for him to be watching and he saw that Chuck was talking into his shirtsleeve. That meant he was an agent of some kind. It also meant that the 'event' scheduled for tonight to take out as many of the high profile business, political, civic and wealthy citizens in Los Angeles had been discovered.

Bruno motioned East and West thugs over and told them something and then it hit the fan.

Carina pulled the fire alarm, an easily recognized signal to tell people to get out fast. The museum's auto-alarms didn't detect a fire but had been programmed to immediately secure the facility. Titanium mesh grates began descending from the ceilings and lights began to blink.

While Chuck was watching to make sure Carina and her capture team were out of harm's way East and West walked up behind him and West hit him over the head with his pistol. East picked him up and threw him over his shoulder and all seven walked out through the rear doors onto the observation deck and the ramp to the parking lot and helipad.

Sarah Walker watched as Chuck's vitals spiked and then settled to a low level indicating he was either severely injured or unconscious or both. Carina had just stepped out through the emergency exit when the metal grates closed down, trapping her and her team outside of the building with no way to get to Chuck.

"Sarah, the building is locked tight and Chuck's still in there!"

Ari took out an electronic device that looked like a remote control for a TV and punched a code and the inside of the museum lit up as mini-explosives set off the sprinkler system which had been fitted with special sprinkler heads and whose reservoir was filled with a solution of water and weaponized anthrax.

Sarah superimposed the GPS tracking cursor showing Chuck's location over a scaled computer map of the Museum and grounds. His cursor was moving and was outside the building on the observation deck.

"Carina, he's outside on the observation deck. Go get him. He's hurt and his vitals are fluctuating badly like he's in distress. I'm on my way."

Chuck was indeed in distress and so was East. All that beer came up as a result of the rough ride over East's shoulder. He puked all over his back and legs. East had a purely natural reaction and dropped Chuck and got away from the puking agent.

Schlieter pushed his thug out of the way and reached down and grabbed Chuck by the collar, hauling him upright and jamming a pistol into his kidney. "OK, Mr. Bartowski, if that's your real name, you're coming with us. I have questions and you have answers. Let's see if I get all my answers before you run out of fingers and toes, shall we? You ruined my party for the rich and shameless and you're going to pay for it."

Chuck wiped his mouth on his sleeve and found that his mike still worked. "Well, Bruno, old son, it's this way. Putting me on a helicopter and taking me God knows where won't wash. They'll shoot you down in a heartbeat. And your 4 lightly armed idiots and the prodigal son and the gomer from the Shining Path, well, they'll all die just because you're too stupid to plan an op right."

Sarah heard Chuck, glad he was alive and amazed at his situation report. He wasn't a trained agent but now they all knew what they were facing. _'Yeah, you don't seem to mind his inane comments when they suit your purposes, do you, Agent?'_

Bruno Schlieter and his little group of losers were almost to the chopper. The sliding door was open and the pilot was hitting the cyclical indicating the bird was ready to go. Ten yards to go. The NSA teams came around from the side of the building and set up a skirmish line and prepared to advance knowing that the MP5s were area weapons and the American agent was probably going to be a friendly fire casualty if the order to fire came.

Bruno and his group backed up using Chuck as a shield. Chuck knew that if he got on the chopper he was a dead man. He also knew he was a coward and would cave under their care and ministrations. He was the intersect. He could not be taken alive. It was that simple and that terrifying. He was probably going to die. All his talk of suicide boiled down to 'I'm not ready to go yet'. And yet he knew he could not be taken alive.

Five yards from the chopper and the groups were only 20 feet apart. Chuck saw Sarah in her mission jimmies and smiled. She looked like an avenging angel. And he saw Carina the armed Valkyrie, his partner and friend. One of them would kill him. He knew which one loved him enough to do it.

"Sarah, you have to do it. You know who I am and what I am. You have to do it, Sarah. It's OK, babe. I love you, too. Take the shot, Sarah. Please. I'd do it for you. I'm keeping my promise to you, Sarah, remember the freighter? I'm keeping my promise."

Sarah had no idea what he meant by the freighter or his promise. She only knew she couldn't shoot the man she loved. No. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She looked at Carina and saw only pity in her eyes. _'Take the shot, Agent, it's your duty, take the shot!'_

"Sarah, please. You have to do it, Sarah. Take the damned shot, agent. Take the damned shot. You know who I am, you know what I am. Take the fucking shot, Sarah, please!" _'It's the least you can do for him, Agent. End his whining and complaining. Send him to his precious Lynn, Agent. Do both yourselves a favor. Maybe Bryce will take you back? Take the shot, Agent, and end the farce.'_

Bruno Schlieter was stunned and frightened. What kind of man begs for death? What kind of man doesn't care enough for life that he…

* * *

Sarah Walker shot Chuck Bartowski in the chest, right where the aorta emerges from the heart. She saw the blood bloom from the wound, saw him grimace in pain and then she saw him smile and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he pitched forward.

Bruno Schlieter was stunned and had released his hold on Chuck's tuxedo jacket when he felt the impact of the bullet on his hostage.

As if on command, the entire group of agents, strikers and assorted LEOs opened fire on the terrorists riddling their bodies and setting fire to the hydraulics of the chopper. Two NSA strikers ran forward and grabbed the body of the agent and pulled it clear of the flames just before the chopper exploded.

Two NSA medics turned the body over and one looked at the other and shook his head. They started straightening out the body for transfer and removal by body bag.

Sarah Walker was on her knees, weapon still extended when Carina came over and removed it from her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry. He loved you, Sarah, he loved you enough to trust you to take him out and save him from torture or worse." She avoided saying 'shoot' or 'kill'.

Sarah Walker's mind flashed on a hundred images of her Chuck. Naked in the shower, in bed, at the beach, in the hospital, standing beside his Harley, looking out the window at her garden, eating pizza, drinking his domestic beer, making the bed, unmaking the bed, crying, laughing and loving. All gone now. Just things in her head.

She turned and ran through the park to where she'd left the surveillance van and drove back to her office.

Carina started to follow her but realized that at least one of the team should stay with Bartowski. Leaving him alone was not an option. She understood Sarah's reaction and figured she needed some time to pull herself together. She was a professional and would do the job and mourn her loss later.

* * *

"Son of a _bitch_ that hurt!"

All eyes were on the dead body sitting up in the body bag, leaning on one elbow and massaging a bloody chest wound while fluently and creatively cursing the Pimp and his high tech piece of shit shirt, Bruno Schlieter for going bald, and some ratbastard named Bryce Larkin and his current slut Jill both of whom he sincerely hoped withered away from the Gonaherpasyphylaids STD.

You could have heard a pin drop for about 3 seconds after he quit cursing. He struggled to his knees and looked at the NSA medic and held out his hand and said, "How bout a little help here for the newly undead?" The medic crossed himself and stepped back until he ran into his partner.

"Well, thanks a lot, people. Here I am, back from the light on the other side ready to tell you all about it and I can't get one of you assholes to give me a hand up? Forget it. I told her this was a bad idea. I'm going back to the light."

Carina ran to him and held him to her, rocking him and laughing and crying. They were still a team. Somehow, he was alive.

Sarah Walker reported the mission status to Arthur Graham. It was an interesting conversation.

"Graham, secure."

"Walker, secure. The mission was a success. The terrorists were all killed and the anthrax lab and distribution functions have been located and seized. The intersect was shot and killed by friendly fire while being held as a hostage by Schlieter.

"What? Bartowski's dead?"

"Yes, the asset is dead. Watched them start to bag him. He knew the score, Director, he asked, no, he begged me to take the shot because of who and what he was. He was so brave. I shot him. He's dead. I saw the blood bloom all over his shirt. I killed him, Director, rather than let him be captured. The terrorists were then killed in a fusillade of shots and the helicopter caught fire and was destroyed. Amazing what rage does to a group of pissed-off agents."

"The son of a bitch could never follow instructions. I told him, no I _asked_ him to please wear the Brit tuxedo shirt. Just once I wanted him to follow my instructions. I had a bad feeling about this mission from the start.

Director, I need a few days to close things up here and then I'll be available for reassignment. I'll contact you with a disposal plan for the facility.

"Sarah, I'll send someone out to handle that. You come home, baby girl. You need some time out of the maze. Come home."

* * *

The medics insisted that Chuck be transported to a secure facility for evaluation. Carina rode along, holding his hand and periodically hugging him to ensure he was still alive.

"Carina, where's Sarah? Is she all right? She didn't get hurt, did she? Where is she, Carina?"

"Agent, you have to calm down. You've got a concussion from being pistol-whipped and probably a cracked rib or two from that Agent's bullet. A ballistics-resistant shirt? Pretty high tech. But it didn't bleed, Agent. That's all your blood from the impact. And you're going to need a stitch or two in your scalp where they hit you. The real worry is damage to your pericardial muscles from the impact. That shirt is not as good as a vest."

"I need to work on my exit strategies before one of you professional agents ends up killing me to save me. Only for real this time."

Carina had been sitting there just holding his hand. She might act like a nymphomaniac but was far from stupid. She'd graduated in the top 10 percent of her class at Boston College and had been heavily recruited by various government agencies. There weren't all that many graduates in cybermechanics but she'd chosen the DEA over DARPA because of a personal family tragedy.

At first she wondered if Chuck was even human. The repetitive phrase 'what I am' had started her thought processes along those lines but she'd quickly rejected them as impossible. Unless biology had been duplicated elsewhere, Chuck Bartowski was a human male, very male.

Then she started analyzing the 'leaps of logic' he'd displayed, his amazing ability to pull together cogent statements from the smallest details. Had the CIA managed to implant some kind of computer device in Chuck Bartowski? Was he a cyborg? That idea excited her because of her background. What was human and what was machine or computer? The whole concept boggled her mind but made her more determined than ever to get to really know Chuck Bartowski as a person. Her curiosity knew no bounds and she'd use any means necessary to have her questions answered.

He tried calling Sarah on her cell but got voice mail. He was worried sick that she thought she'd killed him. Carina finally explained how she'd just run off after they bagged his body and she left in the surveillance van.

**CIA/NSA Emergency Medical Facility  
Los Angeles, CA  
10:30pm**

To say that Chuck Bartowski was angry was probably an understatement. He was livid. The doctor assigned to him put him through a battery of tests and then told him he was spending the night and probably the next under observation because of the chest trauma and his concussion. He handed him a hospital gown and pointed to a room.

"Doc, take you gown and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. I'm out of here. Give me whatever AMA paperwork you require to cover your fat ass but I'm leaving in 20 minutes with or without your permission. So back off and regroup. I'm gone in 20, no make that 19."

_All I want to do is go home, shower, then wrap myself around Sarah Walker and just feel alive again. No sex, just extreme cuddling. I hurt too much to do anything other than that. But first, I have to find her._

Finally, he called Director Graham.

"Graham, secure."

"Bartowski, secure. Where the hell is Sarah Walker, Art? I can't leave this damned place until some test results are back. Where is she? She's not answering her cell. It goes to voice mail. Damn it, answer me!"

"Bartowski? Chuck? Is it really you? But you're dead! Walker told me she killed you, blood all over the place. They put you in a body bag and zipped it up. She's a wreck. Thinks she's killed you. I told her 'come home' and I hope she's on the way."

"Call her, Art. Stop her from leaving me. I'll be out of here as soon as this asshole doctor gets his paperwork together. She won't answer my cell."

"So, you wore the Brit Tux shirt? Good. You followed orders for once in your life. How'd it work? Was it comfortable? I need details for the report."

"Art, you are so full of shit if you think I'm giving you a tech rep evaluation right now when my Sarah is missing. Get busy and find her and send her here or to the apartment. Damn, you professionals are all crazy people."

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
Burbank, CA**

Sarah entered the apartment for probably the last time in her life. So many good memories and a few not-so-good but overall this place was home. She walked into their room and pulled out a bag to pack for her trip back. The Agency would send a crew to take care of her stuff. Stuff. Just crap. All she wanted was to wrap herself around a lanky nerd and spend eternity right here in this room, in that bed.

She knew it was crazy but she felt him here more than anyplace else. It smelled like Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker. It was a unique smell of his occasional after shave and her vanilla scented shampoo. He loved the smell. She knew he used to bury his face in her hair and just breathe. He called it his "SarahScent". If it was this bad now, what would it be like when she didn't have this to fall back on?

Against her better judgment she stripped down to the buff and wrapped herself in their sheets, her face in his pillow. ChuckScent. She was asleep in seconds.

The cab pulled up to Carina's apartment. Chuck threw money in the driver's face and dragged Carina out and up to her apartment. "I need my bike keys, Carina. I have to find her. She thinks she killed me. You thought she killed me. I was dead to all of you. They zipped the damned bag up on me. She knows I'm dead. I have to find her, Carina."

She knew if he got on that bike in his current state he'd end up killing himself. He wasn't together enough to drive a car let alone something as treacherous as a high-powered motorcycle.

"Chuck, let me get my keys and I'll drive you anywhere you want to go but you are not capable of safely driving a car and certainly not your Harley. Where do you want to go first? The office? Her Porsche is at the office."

So this was what love was like? A young man who should be in a hospital wearing a blood-soaked tuxedo and raving like a maniac. If it wasn't so tragic it would be one of the plots in her Harlequin novels. She knew Walker was gone. Back to D.C. It was protocol and Sarah always followed protocol. She didn't have the heart to tell him she was probably somewhere over the Rockies not at the office.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to the office. Her Porsche was still here but the van was not in its usual place.

"The apartment. Please, she's at the apartment probably packing her things. Let's go, Carina, please."

"Chuck, protocol in situations like this calls for the agent to immediately return to D.C. The agency has people who pack and ship. She's gone, Chuck, I'm sorry but she's gone. Once she contacts Graham and learns the truth she'll call, Chuck. I'm sure she'll call."

"Baby, come back to my place. You don't want to be alone now. I'll take care of you until she calls. Please, Chuck. You could hemorrhage and be dead if you don't calm down and lie down. The doctor wasn't fooling around, Chuck. You took a tremendous hit to the heart. You're lucky it didn't stop on you or that your aorta didn't rupture from the shock."

"No. If I go anywhere, it's home. Please, Carina. Take me home. I'll be fine. I swear. I'll go to bed and I'll call you or you call me every 2 hours. Please, I want to go home, no place else, just home. And I need some 'me' time. I need to be just 'me', not the human computer, not the non-linear thinker, just me, Chuck Bartowski."

She reluctantly agreed and watched him until he got in the apartment and turned on the lights. She would have felt better if she had him at her place but he wouldn't compromise or budge. She'd get her chance once he realized she was gone and not coming back. She'd pick up the pieces of her Chuck and they'd move on to bigger and better things. She was patient if nothing else where he was concerned.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski  
11:45pm**

He toed off his shoes and struggled to get the damned tuxedo jacket off. He was so sore and he moved as slowly as possible to avoid moving the 2 bruised ribs. He shuffled towards the shower dropping the cummerbund in the hallway outside the bathroom door. The doctors had been perplexed when they tried to cut the tuxedo shirt off with bandage scissors. It was like cutting steel. Finally, a nurse had just grabbed it along the buttons and torn it open to access the wound. Maybe something for his report to Art. He undid the cufflinks and pulled off the cuff mike. He didn't even realize it was still attached.

He reached in and turned on the hot water and set it to a low and gentle spray. He shrugged off his trousers and kicked them out into the hallway. He'd deal with the mess later. No one would be passing judgment on the mess since no one would be there until Carina came to get him in the morning.

Losing the socks and dropping his boxers he eased into the shower stall and finally let all the emotions come to the surface. He was so angry at himself for being stupid and stubborn and in love with someone who had loved an earlier version of him. Apparently Chuck ver2 had some shortcomings.

Next he was pissed at Art Graham for making her stay when she didn't want to. He knew about the order and the conversation.

Then he was mad at himself for another reason. Reasons. He couldn't talk to her. He got all fouled up when she was near him and he couldn't talk to her, tell her things he wanted her to know and all the things she wanted to know. Nothing came out right. It was like 6th grade all over again. And that frustrated him and when he got frustrated he got defensive and the whole cycle started again.

Something woke her. Her training and experience shouted '_danger_' and she was instantly on alert. She heard sounds from the hallway and then from the bathroom. Someone was in the apartment. She got up and fumbled around the mess of her mission jimmies and found her knife. She couldn't remember where her weapon was. She opened the door and crept down the dark hallway kicking things out of the way. Clothes?

Ah, shit. He had a headache, an almost broken heart, and he wanted what he couldn't have. It was so juvenile. Hey, Sarah, I love you and I want to be with you and I want you to love me and want to be with me and …it was that easy. So why couldn't he just say that when he was with her? He knew he sent mixed signals. He would try working on that but a lot of the problem was that she interpreted those signals based on her spy world crap and he used normal world signals. They were so screwed.

He put shampoo on his hands but found it hurt too damned much to raise them high enough to wash his hair. It had blood throughout it and he was sure it smelled rank. He knelt down and leaned against the side of the stall and managed to get his hands into his hair and wash out the blood. The water was not falling directly on him so as the shampoo loosened the clots the water turned blood red and coursed down his head and neck tracing gory trails across his shoulders and back.

Sarah slipped into the bathroom in a combat crouch. Some frikkin' crack head had broken into their apartment to take a shower? Incredible. Well, she could always claim self-defense. She opened the shower door and saw a naked man with blood pouring from his head huddled in the corner of the shower. She thought he might be crying but she wasn't sure. His hair was wreathed in bloody lather. She knelt down and put a hand on his shoulder and he gasped and turned and looked up at her. The knife clattered to the tiles.

"Sarah? It's OK, Sarah. It's me. Sarah? Please, baby, don't do this, not now. Sarah? I've been looking for you. You didn't kill me. "

"You're dead. I killed you. This is a dream. I'll wash the blood off you and you'll disappear. This is a dream. You're dead, Chuck. I can't bring you back. I can't even imagine you whole, how's that for screwed up? Stand up, Chuck. I need to see it. I need to see where I blew your heart out. I'll believe it then, Chuck. I saw you die. I killed you, Chuck."

"Help me up then, Sarah. I can hardly move my arms. Help me up, babe. I need to rinse this blood away."

Ten minutes later they were in their bed in their room in their own little world. Her hands were constantly moving over his body, his face and his shoulders. She could see where they'd put 3 stitches into his scalp and two in his chest. The shirt was resistant but still allowed damage to the wearer. He didn't tell her about the danger of hemorrhage nor did he mention his severe concussion. She had enough to deal with. He could deal with the headache. She would heal his heart.

He traced patterns down her naked back while she continued her quest for damage.

"You know, we probably look like monkeys grooming."

She just grunted and kept touching and feeling, her fingertips in a quest for anything that might be damaged or cause harm. She hadn't said more then a dozen words and those were more grunts than words. 'Hold me.' 'Headache?' 'Hurt here?' "Oh, Chuck.' 'Sorry.' 'Love you.'

* * *

At 5am Carina called Chuck's cell. Of course, it was in his tuxedo jacket on the floor and her call went to voice mail. Imagining him dead or incapacitated she hurried over to his apartment.

At 5:10am Ellie called Chuck's cell. She'd seen the footage of the 'kidnapping attempt' and the shooting on Good Morning America and had panicked. Her call went to voicemail.

At 5:15am Devon called Chuck's cell after Ellie called him in a panic over what she'd seen on GMA and begged him to find Chuck and call her back with a status. She was booking a flight on-line and she'd call him for pickup at the airport.

At 5:20am Arthur Graham called Chuck's cell and got voicemail. At 5:22am he called Sarah's cell. Being a good little agent, it was on the nightstand.

"Walker, very secure."

"Graham, secure. Get up and get dressed. You're about to have company. The entire west coast news media is hunting for Chuck Bartowski for an interview about the kidnapping attempt and the shootout. A TV crew covering the mayor at the Museum event last night got the whole damned thing on tape, Sarah. Turn on the TV and then find Bartowski. He isn't answering his cell."

"Oh, in case you didn't know, he's not dead, baby girl. Just a grade 3 concussion, some bruised ribs and a dangerously bruised aorta. He never does things the easy way. He should be in the hospital but he had to find you. When he does, suggest he return to the hospital where he will be put in restraints with armed guards posted at his bedside to make sure he doesn't escape. Helluva exit strategy. Oh, yeah, invite me to the wedding."

She stared at her phone. Arthur Graham was laughing too hard to talk so he just disconnected.

Wedding?

"Chuck, get up, love, we have to get properly dressed for the press. Wake up, Chuck. You need to shower and get something into your stomach and then you can explain why you aren't following orders and sleeping in a hospital bed."

"Fine. But first chase the five hundred pound gorilla off my chest. And some aspirin, please. My head's killing me for no reason at all."

She pulled the sheet down and gasped. His chest was one huge black and blue mass centering on the gauze-covered stitches. You couldn't cover it with a dinner plate.

"Oh, my God. Chuck, your chest. We need to get you to a hospital right now. You should be in a hospital. Look at you. Oh, no wonder you can't move. But we need to get you up. Wear something comfortable if you can. My God, that must hurt. It hurts just to look at it."

"No hospital. It's just an impact secondary, yeah, I think that's what the EMT called it. He was right, though. Looks worse than it is, really. Thank God for the magic shirt. Glad you remembered my promise about no taking off my vest. Worried that you would forget and not take the shot, Sarah, but you came through. See, I kept my promise, sort of."

"Let me help you up. Shower and I'll make coffee and find some aspirin and see what you can wear that won't be too uncomfortable to get into."

"Sarah, please don't pick something I like. I remember how you got me out of my shirt last time."

She smiled. _Scissors. Seems like a lifetime ago. So much has changed. I've changed._

While Chuck was in the shower, Carina arrived and used a picklock to open the door. She was surprised to see Sarah standing at the kitchen counter making coffee and wearing a very short robe and humming.

"Hey, where's Chuck? He didn't answer his check-in. He should be in the hospital but the ass just had to find you to make sure you were all right. I take it that's him in the shower? He doing ok?"

"You want coffee? Yeah. My God, Carina, he's got a huge bruise on his chest. I mean really, really big. Did you know he had a grade 3 concussion? You should have made him stay in the hospital. Graham's pissed he's on the loose. And there are press people looking for Chuck. What's our cover?"

"You and I are his security team as well as employees doing other tasks. Let people think what they may, it's the truth. You ever try to get him to ignore 'Sarah in Peril'? She used her fingers to make imaginary quotation marks.

"No. I find that nothing stops him once that marvelous mind of his makes a decision. Very frustrating. He's like a guided missile streaking towards its target. Unstoppable. Scary sometimes, too. He never changes his mind unless he encounters new facts. Then he can make a course change on a dime like last night when he warned us to evacuate the building and why. What did he learn or realize when he connected the dots? He's rarely wrong, Carina, and that's the scariest part."

"As far as 'Sarah in Peril'? He knew I didn't remember his promise and he knew I would think I killed him. I didn't know about the ballistic shirt. I just did what I did because I loved him and would rather see him dead from my bullet than tortured because of the damned inter…"

"Sarah! Stop. She doesn't have clearance. She's curious enough without you and Graham dropping breadcrumbs. She's an intelligent woman. Let her figure it out for herself. No hints." He joked, taking the sting out of his loud interruption.

He was standing in the doorway, wrapped in a towel. The bruise was visible across the room and Carina gasped when she saw it. "My God, Chuck, you should be in the hospital!"

"All the women in my life want me in a damned hospital! Why? So when I walk around in one of those ridiculous gowns my butt hangs out? Or do you all have a more sinister purpose? Well, I don't like hospitals. I like apartments. So forget it. Not going to happen."

* * *

Devon Woodcomb pounded on the door. Chuck, you in there? Open the door, Chuck, it's Devon.

"Grand Central Station. He's a… friend of Chuck's. Carina, please let him in but don't jump his bones, he used to be engaged to Chuck's sister Ellie and there's still hope in Chuck's heart for them."

"Hi, I'm Carina. I work for Chuck in security. And you are…?" Sarah rolled her eyes. Eternal flirt, but not a totally worthless agent.

"I need to check on Chuck. His sister's on her way. The whole thing made nationwide TV. Sarah, you shot Chuck! It looked like you. How could you? I thought you guys were, well, were at least friends if not more."

"We are, more than friends. But it's complicated, Devon. I'll let Chuck explain. He's just out of the shower and getting dressed. So, you and Ellie? How's that coming along?"

"It's not. She quit therapy and I told her I wouldn't visit anymore. Been a month since I've seen her. So the wedding plans are on sorta permanent hold."

Chuck walked around the corner, t-shirt in hand. "Sarah can you give me a hand here? I can't raise my arms and bending over is a no-no, right now. Hey, Devon. What are you doing here?"

Devon motored into full doctor mode. He examined the bruise and then turned Chuck around and looked at the back of his head.

"Chuckster, not awesome at all. Pupils are unequal and slow to react. You probably got cracked if not broken ribs and I'll bet you wouldn't stay in the hospital, would you? You may have a bruised pericardial sac or aorta. You could be dead in seconds, bro. So not awesome. You need to be in the hospital, Chuck. When Ellie gets here…"

"Ellie's coming here? What about Johns-Hopkins? What about her therapy?"

"You know Ellie. Where you're concerned, nothing gets in her way. She quit therapy so she and I are definitely not a couple. Sorry, I had high hopes but I guess you were wrong, Chuck. Some people don't change for the better."

Devon helped Chuck with his t-shirt. He glanced over at Sarah and then at Chuck. "I'm serious, Chuck. Hospital, now. I don't want to lose a friend I love like a brother. This is some serious shit, dude."

Carina had been watching the exchange. He might sound like an airheaded California surfer boy but he obviously had some medical training.

"So, Devon, you think he should be in a hospital, too? You're not saying that just because of the nasty bruise, are you?"

"No, Carina, is it? No, I'm saying it because I cut open too many chests with diseased hearts every day and I don't want to have to watch an autopsy on my little bro. Cardiac surgeons don't like to see a healthy heart put in danger because…," and he looked at Chuck "because someone's too damned stubborn to know when to lie down and follow orders. If Lynn were here she'd kick your bony ass and drag you there."

That was the wrong thing to say. "But she's not here, Devon, and it's my heart and I'll be the one to say whether it's in a hospital, in my chest, or spread out on some autopsy table. I am tired of everyone trying to control me. I need coffee not lectures. I did my job, saved those people, and now all I want is a little peace and quiet without anyone telling me what to do. I'm cutting the strings, puppeteers. Go find another marionette."

* * *

Sarah followed him into the bedroom. "Feel better now?"

"No. I feel worse but am I wrong to want to have a little control over my life? Sure, I can come and go as I please provided either you or Carina are with me. I really have it good. Two beautiful women hanging on my arm, making me feel like I can do anything in the world but in reality? In reality, I'm just as unsure of things as the next guy."

"My personal life is a shambles, a joke without a punch line. I'm in love with a beautiful woman that I want to spend the rest…doesn't matter. I'm sorry, Sarah. Just cranky, I guess. I think I'll take a nap. You and Carina can handle things just fine without me. Probably better. Just wake me up in an hour or so. I'll have a better attitude, I promise."

"Chuck, in the spy world you take what you can get when you can get it because tomorrow might be your last day alive. It means you lose or never have a lot of things other people take for granted. It's why Carina is such a horndog and so competitive. She wrings the last moments out of every day because there may not be a tomorrow. Understand?"

He nodded, confused as to where this was heading.

"Stay here. We'll wring everything we can out of every day. You and me, we're a pair. We're yin and yang, fire and water, but we're here together. I want this, Chuck. I was so wrong to think you and Bruno, well, I was younger and stupider. I hurt you and you treated me better for it. I killed you and you worried about me. I abandoned you and you found me and took care of me. The clothes in the castle, Chuck, that was the sweetest thing anyone ever did for me without a purely ulterior motive. So, let's just be Chuck and Sarah for a while and see what happens. Ok?"

He smiled shyly and nodded.

"And Chuck, if you ever Tango with Carina again, you're toast. You are mine now." She pointed to his bruise. "I've marked you, Chuck Bartowski. You and me, life mates. So get used to it. I'm in it for the long haul. Now, lie down and sleep. I'll wake you for the end of the world."

* * *

Somehow the media never found their address so there was a brief period of peace. Carina drove by the office and Sarah scooted out and jumped in her Porsche and led the press on a lively chase up and down the hillsides of LA before losing them. She drove back to the apartment, parked the car in the back and went in to check on Sleeping Beauty.

Carina and Devon were in the kitchen. Carina was cooking! And Devon was helping. It was obvious that Devon felt drawn toward Carina and it was equally apparent that she was heeding Sarah's warning about Devon and Chuck's sister and his hopes for reconciliation. It was an odd reversal of roles. Carina was still trying to grasp the fact that Awesome was a cardiac surgeon well on his way to making the Big Bucks. She was torn between outrageous flirting and loyalty to the team. Surprisingly, the team won.

Sarah went into their room and found Chuck still asleep but obviously in some pain. He seemed to be grunting with every breath. She got aspirin and water and woke him. "Sleeping Beauty, time for a pain pill and some awake time." Chuck smiled, opened one eye and said "The kiss, the secret is the kiss. Keep to the story. Wake me with a kiss."

She laughed and happily obliged. "Chuck, Ellie's probably on route here, I think you need to get dressed and at least appear healthy if you're going to avoid EllieAngst. Come on, big boy, I'll help you up."

Sarah had bagged all Chuck's clothing from the night before for dry cleaning and was busy keeping her mind off what might have been when she came upon the 'shirt'. She held it up in front of her and just stared. There was a huge blood blossom almost as big as her hand to the left of the button holes. She sat down in the middle of the floor and held the shirt against and began to cry very quietly. She saw her aiming point again as if she were there and heard the _voice_ telling her to end his whining, send him to Lynn and go to Bryce and she felt herself pull the trigger, again and again and again.

Chuck walked out of the bedroom wearing a crisp-looking white shirt and suit pants. He'd hold off on the shoes until someone he knew wouldn't laugh at him would tie them for him. Bending over was not on the recommended list today.

He saw her leaning against the hall wall clutching the bloody tux shirt and rocking side to side to some invisible music only she could hear. Using the wall for balance and support he knelt down and took the shirt from her and put his arms around her. She buried her face in his neck and chanted, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" like a mantra. He knew he couldn't lift her.

"Devon, I need some help here!" Devon turned the corner with Carina on his heels. He took in the sight and picked Sarah up and put her on Chuck's bed. She was crying uncontrollably now. "What happened, Chuck?" "This happened, Devon." He held up the bloody shirt.

"Oh. Yeah, that would do it. Talk to her, Chuck. We'll give you privacy. Let her know you're here and healthy and not dead. Tell her things she needs to hear from you, bro. She's relived the shooting incident and she's having a hard time letting go."

They left Chuck and Sarah alone and closed the door.

"Sarah, I'm alive, I'm here. It's just blood. It didn't really hurt. I need you to listen to me, listen, don't think, don't cry just listen. I'm here and I'm alive and we're together. You did what you did _for_ me not _to_ me. I'm the intersect, Sarah, I can't be captured. You did good, baby, you saved me. Now, please, just open up your eyes and look at me. I'm here, I'm alive and we're together."

He'd kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose and all over her lips as punctuation to each of his statements. She was calming down and would probably sleep but he needed her to talk to him. He needed to know what she saw and what she thought. He needed to know so he could deal with it.

"Talk to me, Sarah, let me know you're OK. I can't do this alone. You're all I have left and if you leave I'll be alone. Please, baby, talk to me."

"Chuck, I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to be a spy. I want to be a 28-year-old girl dating a younger guy and talking about getting married. I want normal, Chuck. I don't want to worry that I'll have to kill you to save you. I don't want to be afraid all the time. I just want normal. Why can't we be Chuck and Sarah, not intersect and agent? I want normal. I want to worry about what to wear to please you not where to hide my gun. I want to go dancing and not worry about blowing a cover. I want to be able to talk to friends about my day and make love with you all night. I want normal, Chuck. I almost had it but I killed it, Chuck. I killed you. Don't make me kill you. Please."

She made sense even with the fear talking about killing him won out briefly. She wanted what most people wanted, a family, friends, a job, not missions, not covers, not fire fights. She wanted what he had once had. Normal. She wanted the vanilla of life when most people wanted Chocolate Swirls or Rocky Road or Peaches and Cream or a Banana Split. All she wanted was vanilla.

She could have vanilla only one place: off the grid.

He'd have to integrate Sarah's plans with his, distribute the money to dispersed locations and make absolutely certain this is what she wanted. There would be no turning back once they scooted.

* * *

Ellie Bartowski arrived at her former residence by taxi since Devon was not answering his cell. Either he was on duty at the hospital or he was just being an ass, Ellie wasn't sure which. Her concern was for her little brother.

She used her key to open the door and was immediately stopped by Carina who wanted to know who she was and why she had a key to her boss' apartment. She was working the cover they'd agreed on. With just a couple of minor points, it was totally the truth.

"You're Chuck's secretary? Where is he? Is he in a hospital? He's not answering his iPhone."

"Nope, I'm his security chief. That is if I still have a job after last night. He's in his room with Sarah Walker. She's looking after his needs. He's OK but I think he should be in a hospital and so do Devon and Sarah. The only one who is objecting is the man of the hour. I'll let him know you're here. Just have a seat. There's beer in the fridge."

Ellie started to say something like 'it's my home to do what I please in' but she stopped and realized it wasn't. The furniture was new but comfortable looking. Either Sarah had done it for him or he'd hired a decorator. It looked very nice and welcoming.

Sarah came out of the bedroom wearing jeans and one of Chuck's least favorite t-shirts and boots. She'd pulled her hair into a high pony tail and Ellie could tell she'd been crying.

"Hey, Dr. Bartowski. Chuck's getting dressed. He'll be out in a minute. Don't be surprised at his attitude, he's on some serious pain meds." She didn't want Ellie to wonder too much about her welcome. Chuck was not a forgiving person when it came to his sister and her treatment of him. He loved her but he didn't like her right now.

"I've watched the shooting 3 times and each time it looks like he smiled after he was shot. And Sarah, the shooter looked like you! It was horrible. These guys wanted to kidnap Chuck because of his government work? The TV must have that wrong. Chuck's got nothing to offer the government. What's he really doing now?"

"Your brother has a brilliant mind. He's developed a process using proprietary algorithms that takes complex variables in a decision, simplifies and synthesizes them and renders a most probable outcome path. It's truly revolutionary thinking and the government has purchased an exclusive license. We are in the process of developing civilian applications for market."

"But he needs a security section for this? I mean, is it dangerous?"

"Not really. What happened last night was that some people got the wrong information about what Chuck does and figured to use him and his processes for their own ends. Stupid people, really. They could have waited 90 days and bought the program on-line for less than $4,000. But then most criminals are stupid. The government requires the security units. It's standard operating practice."

"Hello, Ellie. You should have called. I'd have saved you the trip and told you I was fine. It must have been a slow day for news. So how are you?"

Ellie was shocked. Her brother had lost at least 30 pounds since she'd last seen him and he looked ashen and drawn. Part of that she could attribute to meds and the events of the prior evening but the weight loss was indicative of something else.

She walked over and put her arms around him gently and started to cry. Ellie had forgotten the last time her brother had seen her cry. She'd made progress in therapy but still balked at recognizing some of her issues. Being a doctor and having studied and interned in a psych ward she could easily avoid the traps analyst used. Plus she'd been through it before courtesy of some unknown benefactor who'd funded juvenile rape/trauma counseling.

"Chuck, can I see where you were shot? I can't believe you wore a bullet-proof shirt. Good thing, too."

He unbuttoned his shirt but stopped short of pulling it open. "Ellie, no hysterics, no hospitals and no hassles. I'm very comfortable here. Devon and the girls all think I should be in the hospital but I've convinced Sarah to 'nurse' me. I'll be fine. The head hurts worse that the chest."

Ellie could see how sluggishly his eyes moved and how unequal his pupils were in size and response to light. Definitely a bad concussion.

Sarah filled her in on the events of the prior evening and how he got his injuries and the test results from the ER unit that treated him. She seemed satisfied but still wanted to see his injuries for herself.

Sighing and preparing for the inevitable torrent of doctor-speak and EllieConcern, he opened his shirt. His sister gasped, put a finger tip on the edge of the bruise and traced its perimeter.

She turned to Sarah, "You know what to look for, know the warning signs, especially if he develops a bleed from the head trauma?"

"Yeah, I've had training." She didn't go into specifics and knew it wasn't necessary. Something had passed between them, a passing of the torch of responsibility for Charles Bartowski. A loving sister recognized a kindred spirit and relinquished her title and responsibilities.

"Button up, little brother. That's gross to look at. Listen to Sarah. Any vision or balance problems, you tell her immediately. You start getting short of breath or feel a buildup of pressure here", lightly touching the epicenter of the bruise, "and you tell her. No heroics. Agreed? OK. But take it easy. No running around saving the world. Let's order pizza. I'm starved. And you all can tell me whatever lies you think I need to hear."

He nodded and buttoned up his shirt. He looked at Sarah with a 'what the hell?' look and she just smiled serenely and helped him finish the task. When she finished she looked up at him, still with the strange smile and whispered so that only he could hear her, "You're all mine now, Chuck. It's going to be OK. We're going to be OK. Now, sit down and let's feed Ellie and tell her as much of the truth as we can."

End GreenEyedGirl15

8July2009


	16. Death Rebirth A Double Double Cross

GreenEyedGirl16

_**A/N: Enjoy the plot twists. It'll all come out in the end. Sorry but I've had a wee bit of a medical emergency and I'm not sure when I'll be able to up this. If it's not July, sorry.  
**_

_Armor-Plated-Rat  


* * *

_

**Casa Bartowski**

Devon went to pick up the pizzas and Carina went along 'as security' since he was "carrying cash". Chuck just shook his head. Unless Ellie was blind or had totally fallen out of love with his friend, the way Carina looked at Devon as 'fresh meat on the grill' should bring about some response. And it did.

"So, Chuck. This Katrina girl is your head of security? Is she any good? Are you going to fire her after last night's fiasco?"

"It's 'Carina' and yes, she's that good and no, I'm not firing her. She did her job. I was just a few steps behind and turned back for something and the big ape whacked me. The grate came down on her and she couldn't get back in. It was my fault, not Shortstuff's." He knew she was curious and wanted more details but he would make her work for them.

"So, Katrina, I mean, _Carina,_ she's a government employee? The government provides your security? Is she local or is she based elsewhere?"

_Ellie's got it bad. Hook time._ "She used to work for a government agency but I think the loneliness of long assignments started to get to her. She's here permanently as a CyberLogicals employee. She likes the area and is looking to settle down and have a normal life. She's single but looking at her I wouldn't bet for long. She does clean up nicely." _So does someone else, I know._ He smiled at Sarah and she understood.

"Humph. So, Sarah, you're with CyberLogicals now, too? Made a commitment to our boy here?" She reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Yes. I am totally committed. Sold my condo, picked up stakes and here I am. I've made a lot of commitments. I've got a future here and I'm going to enjoy it. We're totally profitable and have orders pending for the genius' work. Things are going great for us, right, boss?" She had a twinkle in her eye and a smug smile on her face. Ellie would have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to pick up the innuendos. For the first time in the conversation he began to feel uncomfortable with his sister's reaction. Sarah was not a gold digger, and he was sure that was going to be Ellie's reaction.

"Are you seeing anyone now, Chuck? It's been a while and you need to move on with your life. You know Lynn never intended that 'year of mourning' thing. She told me as much. She said "I made my mark with Chuck. Someone else will be along after I'm gone to take over the job". I'd say that meant she expected a young man to keep living, Chuck. So, are you, Chuck? Seeing anyone, I mean?"

But he wasn't listening. He was playing the words over and over in his mind, _'made my mark… someone else… take over the job."_

"Chuck, Ellie asked you if you were seeing anyone. Are you all right? You kind of zoned out on us. Are you tired? Are you feeling all right?" Sarah was suddenly concerned. He'd turned a bit paler than usual and he had that far away look that came after a flash or…or he's made a connection. Oh, no! Why now? _Now doubts about anything and everything I'd ever said to him would creep into his mind like mice into a granary. _She remembered thinking it and now she found it was prophetic. Damn Ellie and her questions.

"Yeah, I think I'll catch a nap while those two are waiting for the pizza. Wake me up when it's here. I'm starving, too."

Sarah helped Chuck back to his room. He really didn't need it but she wanted to remind him that she was there for him and about her commitment.

"Chuck, talk to me. Are you ok? Do you need some aspirin? Please, baby, talk to me. You're scaring me. Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"NO hospitals, Sarah. You promised. Just give me some time and a nap, please. I'll be fine. I'm just, I'm just tired, I guess. Please, go keep Ellie company so she doesn't begin to wonder about us. Just tell her the truth if she asks. If it's a truth you want her to know. Go on; don't leave her alone to think too hard. Please."

"OK, if you're sure you're OK. I'll go entertain Ellie. Have a good nap, sweetie. I love you, Chuck."

"Yeah. A nap is what I need." His tone said something else. It wasn't deliberate but it carried a message if you knew Chuck-speak.

He was tired, of the lies, half-truths and sorta-truths that populated the CIA landscape. He wasn't sure Carina was much better. All the alphabet agencies seemed to find their center in mystery.

After a few minutes of just lying there he drifted off to sleep.

A neuron fired in isolation. Then another and another until thousands and thousands fired and transmitted impulses throughout the brain. Chuck's subconscious was at work turning over facts, making connections, proving assumptions and dismissing unrelated data. His task: compare and contrast Lynn and Sarah, isolate singularities, determine parallels and find commonalities, intent and outcome.

In layman's terms, was Sarah following in Lynn's footsteps and if so, why. His subconscious would worry at this assignment like a terrier until a solution was found. It might take minutes or weeks, it didn't matter. He was unaware of it.

"So, Sarah, you and Chuck, together? Getting there? Just friends? I've been out of the loop so long. Bring me up to speed."

"We're together and moving toward permanent. I made some stupid moves and it cost us time. That letter you sent me. It really freaked me out, Ellie. She talked about my long blonde hair and blue eyes and said we'd have beautiful children. I let Chuck read it and he just went into a funk. Do you think he's over Lynn, I mean, not over, he'll never stop loving her, but I mean ready for a forward motion? A future with me? I'm so crazy about him. We'll have such a bright future together. I have more than enough money if we decide to just quit and travel but he's such a workaholic. I'm rambling. You can't answer if I'm talking. Sorry."

Ellie laughed, really laughed, not the polite hand-in-front-of-mouth-tittering but a full-bellied laugh.

"Oh, Sarah, you sounded just like Chuck from about 'he went into a funk' to the end. As far as Lynn's concerned, he'll always love her but it's an on-the-shelf love. He's open for today's love, I can tell by the way he looks at you. It took until after they were married for me to believe she loved him. She did, obviously, because she married him, but at first it seemed, I don't know, forced affection. Crazy, I know. But you have that look, Sarah, the one Lynn had at the end, only it's now, not later. I'm so happy for you both."

"I think he understands he's mine, Ellie. I couldn't have made it plainer. And I'm his; all he has to do is claim me. He's just so damned stubborn about some things. He gets these ideas and won't let them go. He's almost obsessive about some things. Has he always _had to know_ as opposed to just accepting on faith?"

"Yep. That's my little brother. Loyal, self-sacrificing, not a prideful bone in his whole body. If anything, he never stands up for himself. For others, yes. But he'll let things roll off his back he'd kill someone for doing to somebody else. He's got an uncontrollable temper sometimes. A rage that burns and then explodes. Sarah, if you're going to be with him, and you say you want to marry him, you have to know about our father."

"I already know, Ellie. Chuck told me. He didn't mean to, he was basically out of his mind in pain and on good chemicals from the mugging. I know he beat the crap out his father for assaulting you, Ellie. I'm so sorry."

"Sarah, he didn't beat up my father. He killed him, Sarah. And he wasn't assaulting me like smacking me around, he was raping me and not for the first time. It's like I told you on the phone, only not the whole truth. I'm sorry but I didn't know you well enough and I had to protect Chuck. He was only 15, Sarah, 15."

"I know someone stepped in and helped you both. Chuck didn't tell me who, just that someone cleaned up his mess for him."

"Sarah, he saved my life, it wasn't a mess for him to clean up, it was something for the police to have done something about long before he did it. That's what the man told Chuck, it wasn't a mess, it was justice."

Sarah went over to her purse and pulled out her wallet and searched and found an old tattered business card. "Here, take this. Call her, Ellie. Please. She specializes in dealing with exactly what you're going through. Do it for Chuck and do it for you. She'll help you, Ellie. Just like she helped me. But please don't tell Chuck. I'm not ready to share that with him yet and I don't think he's ready for it. OK? Please?"

Ellie looked at Sarah, appraising her as if for the first time. "Of course not. If you're going to be marrying my brother what kind of sister would I be to you? It'll remain our secret until you tell me otherwise. So I guess Chuck was right about this whole therapy thing after all. Thank you, Sarah. I'll call her the minute I get back. Promise."

"As far as Lynn and the blue eyed blonde with long hair, I don't have a clue. I really thought those two would be together until one died. The other would follow soon. It was that kind of love for Chuck. Now, I'm not so sure about Lynn. I know that's terrible but there were times when she'd have phone calls and she'd freak out. Oh, not in front of Chuck but when she thought she was alone. I heard her tell someone they'd better bring more than two because she'd kill them, too. THAT freaked ME out."

"Oh, Ellie, I'm sure you misunderstood. She'd never cheat on Chuck. She didn't seem the type."

"It wasn't an affair, I think she was in trouble and didn't want Chuck involved. But that's all in the past. Let her rest in peace. Now it's your turn, Sarah. Be good to him. He's a good soul, Sarah. Best you'll find if you looked for years."

'_You won't find a better man than Chuck Bartowski on God's green Earth."_ Even the Director thought that way.

Carina and Devon returned with the pizzas and Sarah went to wake Chuck. From the look on Carina's face, she'd gotten more than pizza. Damn her and damn Devon. She couldn't keep her pants on and he couldn't wait for Ellie.

She stopped herself right there. Devon told them it was over. No therapy, no visits, no wedding. No harm, no foul. He was uncommitted. But she'd still have words with Carina. She told her he was off-limits. _'Maybe I'll make Chuck's program run correctly with my meddling.'  


* * *

_"Hey, Chuck. Pizza's here. Need help getting out of bed?"

"No. Just woke up a few minutes ago. Weird dreams. People I didn't even know telling me the strangest things. Well, you look better in my t-shirt than I ever did. Nice. Very nice. Pizza! I smell pizza, no olives, no dead little fishies, and no weird stuff. Let's go, Sarah."

She gave him a hand and he pulled her down onto his lap. "I want to go away someplace, just the two of us when things calm down. Maybe up to Carmel or down to the Baja. Just the two of us. Just normal stuff that people do when they're dating. I want you to have normal, Sarah. As much as we can have. Is that all right with you?"

"Oh, yes, that's very much all right with me. A bed and breakfast on the beach and just us. I want a fireplace in the room and a big Jacuzzi in the bath. We'll have such fun making our own memories, Chuck, I promise. No more spy lies. No more 'I can't discuss that'. Please, as much normal as we can handle." She gently kissed him, not a lusty Carina special but an almost chaste kiss of promise. "Pizza's getting cold, Chuck. We'd better make an appearance."

It was like old times except for the barbed wire fence between Carina and Ellie. More like razor wire. Dipped in dung. There was conversation between everyone but Devon and Ellie and Ellie and Carina. Ellie told them all about her fellowship at Johns-Hopkins, about her apartment on the inner harbor, and how she'd gotten lost every day for the first two weeks. Devon mentioned the possibility of buying into a practice in Los Angeles but that the cost was pretty high and he was still having second thoughts. The rest just talked about everything but the elephant in the room. The events of the previous night.

Chuck's cell rang and he excused himself to take the call. It was the Chief Moneygrubber from the Museum apologizing for the disturbance and hoping his injury was as minor as the press reported. She and the mayor wanted to apologize 'properly over lunch' and would he please bring his lovely assistant, Katrina? Chuck promised to get back to her in the next few days and returned, laughing, to the table.

"That was the Moneygrubber from the Museum. She wants to 'do lunch with the mayor and I to properly apologize for the disturbances last evening. Katrina, you're presence was specifically requested. I'm sure you'll agree that it'll be good for business, Katrina."

"Chuck, you told me her name was Carina, not Katrina!" Ellie was totally confused and not sure if she was being kidded or if the 'short-bitch' was really named Katrina.

"It is Carina. But apparently the biggest impression was the Tango, not her name."

Sarah kicked Chuck under the table.

"Tango? Oh, Chuck, you didn't do the Tango in public, did you? Remember poor Mrs. Hepplewhite almost divorced her husband after you danced with her? You guys should have seen it. This 40ish woman dancing with my 16 year old brother and practically having clothed sex on the dance floor. Oh, Chuck, I'd forgotten what a young horn dog you were. Especially when you ended up dating her daughter before Stanford. Picking her up at the house must have been a real treat."

Carina ignored the death stare Sarah sent her way. She figured she was still in the running if Devon proved to be 'unavailable' in the future. A girl had to have contingency plans.

Sarah's mind went on a trip down memory lane. The tango in San Francisco, the fumbling with the knives, the deep kisses and then mission fixation. Well, the tango through the apartment was sure to be a regular event in her future. Carina was just out of luck.

Devon looked at his friend with new interest. Chuck? A horn dog? Running after 40ish women. Who would have thought… surprise must be his middle name.

It was late and Ellie insisted she stay at a hotel. She'd already booked it and all she needed was a ride. Devon offered to drop her on his way back to Westwood. Carina took her leave soon after, telling Chuck that his bike was safe at her place whenever he needed to pick it up.

That left just Chuck and Sarah and the elephant in the room. Sarah worried he would want to talk about her reaction to the shooting and Chuck was concerned she'd freak out again if the subject was broached so they left the elephant in the living room and got ready for bed.  


* * *

They still had the press to face. Carina had driven by the office and they were still there, hovering, waiting for some sign of the software developer and his assistant. The local papers had done puff pieces on Chuck but couldn't find anything about Carina. Some hinted she was his mistress, others, his girlfriend, while still others stuck with the time-honored 'business associate'.

The cable news networks had all picked up the story and video. It soon became apparent to Arthur Graham that too many people would recognize Chuck's shooter as his 'Vice President of Finance' and begin to either wonder what was really going on or make the connection that it was some kind of special operation. Either way, Sarah Walker had become a potential liability to the intersect team. Graham had plans for almost any contingency but this one.

Of all the possible actions available, they ranged from simply ignoring it to admitting she was a government operative. Chuck's comments urging her to shoot him didn't help matters any. In point of fact, they identified Chuck Bartowski as more than just a software developer. They fairly screamed 'spy network' or 'special ops' since the NSA strike force had also appeared so helpfully on camera. Everything went as planned except for the presence of the TV crew. Damn! His team had performed with deadly efficiency and effectiveness and because some politician wanted face time in the news it would have to be dismantled, perhaps to be reassembled elsewhere.

There were three possible avenues open to Graham if the situation became critical.

The first was simply to reassign Sarah Walker to other duties on the other side of the globe. It would not hide the bird crumbs leading to Chuck Bartowski and the intersect, but it would buy them some time to evaluate the threat levels and establish contingencies and get her out of the public eye. Arthur Graham had made a promise but he'd made them before. His obligation to the greater good far outweighed the promises made to a love-struck girl who had the potential to be so much more than a bed-warmer and hand-holder to a self-described needy Nerd. Graham worried about Bartowski's reaction and the subsequent turmoil within the intersect team. He'd only been half joking about the wedding invitation.

The second was to 'disappear' Chuck Bartowski into a Witness Protection environment where he could still operate as the intersect keeping the current team intact. Perhaps it would raise more questions than it put to rest. The advantages were all there: team continuity, access to the intersect updates and a happy and productive Chuck Bartowski. He could see no downsides. His agents were all professionals and Bartowski's personal attachments appeared limited to an estranged sister and her ex-fiancé, Devon Woodcomb.

The third option was to put him in a secure facility and reassign the remaining agents to other duties. Arthur Graham personally felt this was the best option for the Agency from an immediate security standpoint but would not be at all beneficial to future contributions from Bartowski. It also meant that one or possibly two agents would go rogue in an effort to find him. Having Sarah Walker breathing down his neck 24/7 was not a palatable option. Reassigning her and then snatching the asset would only delay her assault on the system. And she just might win. And he did not have the heart to have her terminated.

It would probably not surprise Arthur Graham to learn that Chuck Bartowski had already figured the situation out and had come up with a fourth option and had already dismissed it as being premature and unproductive: run.

Chuck knew he'd have to preempt any actions Graham might have already initiated or be contemplating. Striking first would get them their optimum outcome and reveal the opponents possible options. He would have to discuss this with the agents involved since it affected their lives to a substantial degree. He didn't care where he lived or what his name was anymore. Apparently no one else in the Intel Community gave a damn what he thought either. Surprise, surprise…

Chuck awoke early the next morning, really early, and thanks to the time differential, had no trouble reaching Arthur Graham.

"Graham, secure."

"Bartowski, secure for the moment. Director, what have you decided? Send Sarah to the ends of the earth until things die down? Or maybe the Witness Protection option where we all go into deep cover and keep on operating? Or maybe I should start looking over my shoulder for your capture team?

"Bartowski, what are you blabbering on about? I have no such plans for any changes to the existing operations out there in L.A. You folks ran a by-the-book operation and why would I mess with that?" Sometimes Chuck Bartowski scared the crap out of Arthur Graham. Did he read minds? What happened to Mr. Needy? Thank God he isn't an agent.

"Because I know you, Director Graham, I know how you think. We're not that different, you and I. Well, OK, I'm taller, paler, better looking, have all my hair now that it's grown back, did I say better looking?"

"You got a point, Chuck?"

"Yeah. Relocate the team. I'll give my sister some bull about how the TV coverage puts my life at risk and that Sarah's really a Secret Service agent and our relationship is all BS. I'll set up a way to maintain contact, Art, securely, but only if she goes back into counseling. I'm emailing you my outline. Get back to me with your opinion when you get time."

"Oh, one more thing. Send more than two, this time. I'll protect Sarah, Art. You'll need a lot more than two. Lynn left me details on where you buried all those 'bodies' and the documentation to support it. Same deal. You know I'll never go into a hole and you'll have more bodies to deal with this time. You be sure and have a nice day, Director."

By the end of the conversation Chuck had settled down. He hoped he sounded a lot more confident that he felt. He was terrified of losing all he had. The company, his team, Sarah, Carina and his sister. He didn't want to run because he knew he'd eventually get caught and anyone with him might be killed. He couldn't take that risk. He wouldn't. Well, he was awake now, that was for sure. He started making coffee and wished he wasn't naked. Since sleeping with her, neither bothered with clothes. Nothing physical except some serious cuddling and given his condition, that probably raised his BP way higher than it should be.

Sarah woke the instant Chuck got out of bed. Was he hurting? Did he need something? She heard him take his cell from the desk and walk out to the kitchen. He closed the door soundlessly but she was already awake.

She pulled on a t-shirt and walked quietly out to the living room. If he was calling someone at 5am she had a pretty good idea who it would be.

She overheard the entire conversation. She had blatantly eavesdropped and had no guilt or embarrassment about her behavior.

She was floored when she heard ask Graham what option he'd decided on, send her away, relocate the team or send a capture team for him. She almost blew her covert surveillance when he told the director he was better looking. She almost laughed. It was so funny how he messed with the Director's mind. And she agreed, he was definitely better looking.

But she was still worried where all this was going. How could he be so confident sounding when she could see from his expression he was anything but?

When he told the director he'd 'protect Sarah' if he sent a capture team she could only imagine that outcome. He wouldn't win. And he'd die trying. And then he outlined the team relocation as the best option. She frowned about the 'BS relationship' but understood what he meant. And then he threatened the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency with the exposure of 'bodies' that could mean actual corpses or operations.

When he closed his phone and started making coffee she saw how much his hands were shaking. He had been afraid of failure. His voice resounded with confidence but his trembling hands told the truth. He's thrown down the gauntlet and waited for the Director's response.

Chuck was leaning over the sink watching the coffee brew. He hated how his palms sweated and his hands trembled when he was nervous. And he'd been real nervous.

'_Well, I think that went well. No begging, whining or yelling. And the director actually listened. Maybe the Hail Mary would work. I don't want her pulled away just because of a TV news crew. I will sacrifice the company in a heartbeat. I'd like to keep Carina around if only to keep Sarah honest. But I will not sacrifice Sarah Walker on the altar of self-interest. I'm not Arthur Graham.'_

Sarah walked up behind him and snaked her arms around his waist, laying her face against his back. She could hear his heart beating, something she almost didn't get to do. It was slow and steady, strong with no hesitation. Exactly as he appeared to any who watched him.

Sarah started talking to him, her voice small and quiet, almost as if she were speaking to herself.

"Chuck, you need to quit worrying about every little thing. I know Graham is devious but you can't go around threatening the Director of the CIA with exhumed bodies. And you can't tell him you know what he's thinking. You'll freak him out. And don't worry about going into a secure facility, baby, he promised me a heads' up if it came to that. So relax, get better and we'll deal with the crap life throws at us together. If he tries to send me away, I'll quit, Chuck, I swear to God, I'll quit."

She kissed him on the back, put her head back to listen to his heart. Slow, strong and steady with no hesitation.  


* * *

**CyberLogicals llc**

The circus was in town and it had set up its tents outside the office. There were several local news vans and camera teams and one from CNN. They used the remote entry to the Castle located in the vacant CIA-owned building behind their office and went to work. Chuck was working on his outline to send to the Director, Sarah was in the Castle reviewing some intel logs and Carina sat and doing her nails and pondered how life had closed the door on Chuck but flung it wide open with Devon Woodcomb. Too bad Chuck's sister was nuts, yeah, too bad for Ellie. She had a dinner date with Devon and was looking forward to seeing where this would go.

A FedEx truck pulled up and a deliveryman came to the door. Carina ran the scanner and it showed too much metal on him. Unless he had a prosthetic made of steel, way too much metal. Amazing that technology dating back 85 years was still in use today. She flicked on the door speaker:

"Leave it. We'll get it later."

"Sorry, signature required."

"Leave it or take it back. Come back when the circus is not in town."

"I need a signature or it gets sent back to the sender. You have to sign for it."

"Nope. Leave it or come back. Final warning. Read the little label there on the door regarding federal authorization to use deadly force. Take a hint and take a hike."

The guy leaned the package against the door, threw the finger at the speaker grill and stalked off toward his delivery truck. Carina had been on the phone with FedEx. No deliveries were in the system for CyberLogicals llc. She hit the alarm.

Carina ran through the office to the janitor's closet and hit the emergency release and ran down the stairs to the Castle as protocols dictated. Sarah was already there since she was reviewing the intel dailies and was in the armory as protocols dictated. Chuck was in his office not paying attention to what was happening around him, as usual, and had ignored the chimes _again_ and had just transmitted his outline to the director when the charge left at the door exploded.

The blast blew in the glass panels on the outside door but was tamped down considerably as the special interior doors buckled and collapsed inward. If Carina had been at her desk she would be so much hamburger on the far wall. Because blast effects are linear, the only damage done to Chuck and Sarah's office resulted from the overpressure. The bullet-resistant glass bulged then finally burst, releasing the majority of the overpressure effects outside the building.

Chuck may have been ignoring the chimes but he was under the desk in a flash once the blast hit. He wondered later how he managed to do that since he was not conscious of moving. One minute, seated, the next, cowering under the desk.

A black suburban pulled up at the ruined entrance and three men in black jumpsuits and silenced weapons got out and ran into the building.

Chuck's POV

_This is getting old fast. I hope Carina got down stairs. Sarah's already there, good. It's just my ass to save. _

_Good thing she insisted on this desk, nice thick mahogany, and the .45 Colt was a nice accent piece, Sarah. Now if I could only hit something with it._

_Oh, man, the ceiling collapsed. Dust. I hate dust. Makes me snee…__**ah choo!**__ OK, where's the Castle from here. Hell, where's my wall? My window? Is this Graham's answer to the Bartowski problem? Or someone else's? Time to worry later. Wonder if the circus is still in town?_

_**Ah choo!**__ Damned dust. Ah, the hallway. Fire suppression working. Janitor closet should be left about 15 feet, assuming it's still there. Man, dust, suppression crap, can't see a damned thing. Whoa! There's someone over there, none of the girls are in black today, must be a 'visitor'. Man, what a time to have to take a leak. What's that clattering? Shit! Silenced MP5. Not good at all. No place to hide, get behind him, shoot center of mass, __**BLAM! **__ Thank you Casey for the lesson. May you burn in hell. One down._

_Shit! Another one. Oh, this is not good. Sit down. Be quiet. Wait. Patience. Let them come to me. Not looking for a prisoner, that's for sure. I definitely am in over my curly locks here. I'll text Sarah to call me back in 30 seconds as a diversion. Then they can come up and rescue my sorry ass. _

Sarah's phone started buzzing announcing an incoming text. The door to the office from the Castle was blocked and Carina had taken off down the tunnel to the secondary access site. Sarah had sent station alarm to Langley. Help should be here in 15 minutes or less.

Sarah 1 dwn 2 to go

**Call me 45 secs**

'Oh my God, Chuck. Be careful, baby. Hide, don't fight. Hide, please.'

She dialed Chuck's iPhone and ran after Carina. She couldn't get to the janitor's closet and Chuck had company. They would come in behind them. Piece of cake.

Chuck closed his phone after texting Sarah and set the volume on max and slid it across the floor, hoping it would go far enough to accomplish its task.

_Come on, Sarah, call me, please? Call me. Help me out here, baby. I need a distraction. _

His cell rang with a Sting ring-tone and two gouts of flame illuminated the hallway 10 feet from where he sat and bullets tore his iPhone to bits and pieces. He sighted in on the closest then moved back about a foot and fired 2 rounds, incredibly pleased with himself to hear a grunt of pain and the sound of a body falling to the ground.

A burst of fire reached out for him and bullets impacted the wall where he would have been standing. He fired several times, sure he'd missed. He rolled out into the hallway looking for the weapon of the man he'd hit when he heard Carina shout, "Chuck, down!" and an amazing amount of metal hit the infiltrator. He'd been behind Chuck and would have killed him in seconds. He hadn't even seen him pass him by in the dust and smoke.

_Well, I no longer have to use the john. What an embarrassing mess this is._

Both Sarah and Carina called his name and he answered and started walking towards their voices, which wasn't easy since most of the ceiling was now filling the hallway with acoustical tile panels and metal support frames.

"You two OK? Sarah, Carina?"

"Yeah, how about you? You OK? We're going to talk about protocols in a while, Chuck, you know that, don't you?" Sarah's voice was cold and professional.

"Uh-Oh, Chuck's in troooouble now," sing-songed Carina.

Chuck walked back to the hooded figure he'd shot in the back and rolled him over and pulled off his gas mask and flashed… Fulcrum!

"Sarah, get Art on the phone. This guy is Fulcrum. Tell him we're going off the grid for 24 hours so he can organize a relocation. God damnit, I hate being right."

The circus was in town and all the acts were performing. CNN interrupted their broadcasts for the aftermath of the explosion and the sound of gunfire coming from the wrecked office building after catching the 3 Fulcrum agents entering the building. All that was heard was Chuck's .45 and then the ripping sound of 2 MP5's on full auto. The SUV driver figured it was time to get out of Dodge and took off. All this on cable news, local news and the Constantly Nebbing and Nosing.

The three former employees of CyberLogicals llc ran out the back of the building, their exit masked from the carnival revelers by the hulk of the building. Sarah ran back into the Castle from the remote entry while Chuck and Carina sat in Carina's big SUV.

"So, Chuck, drank too much coffee there, huh?" She pointed to Chuck's soaked pants.

"Don't go there, Carina. You saved my life but leave this moment alone, please. I had just finished transmitting the email to Graham and was going to hit the head when the place collapsed. Remind me to thank Sarah for Mahogany. It's wonderful. I want a house lined with it. Saved my ass."

"Chuck, it's OK, quit babbling. It happens. Of course your girlfriend's going to wonder about future incontinence problems. You know, like, 'do I need plastic pads under the sheets'…" She laughed until tears stained her dusty cheeks.

"I guess the answer Depends, right? Enough, Carina. Please. Leave me some dignity."

"Sorry, boss. By the way, smooth moves on the phone. Way cool move. So you got 1 and we got the other two? Nice."

"Sorry, again, Carina. I got one and then another. You guys saved my ass. He was less than a yard away when you guys nailed him. I think that's when the bladder issue made itself known. I didn't know he'd passed me and my back to him."

"Sorry, Chuck." Giggling, always giggling.

"OK, Graham's in the loop. Watch this, Chuck." Sarah held up her iPhone and dialed a telephone number. The CyberLogicals building exploded upwards and then collapsed in on itself into a crater 20 feet deep that would later be explained as a gas line damaged by the initial explosion.

"Cool, Sarah. Do it again."

"Smart ass. All our buildings are constructed with self-destruct in mind. You'd be surprised what blows up with the right twist… ewwww, what's that smell?"

Carina started laughing again drove back to the apartment to begin the evacuation and Chuck wondered about chafing and rash.  


* * *

**Casa Bartowski**

Once again Fate foisted its fickle finger in the faces of the team. When they arrived at the apartment Ellie Bartowski was waiting, sitting on one of the benches in the courtyard.

"Chuck, Katrina, Sarah, does anyone want to explain why your building just blew up…twice? Or why you're covered in dust and crap? Chuck? Chuck? Did you have an accident? At your age?"

"Sarah, I'm taking a shower. Ellie, shut up. Katrina, calm down, please. Sarah, brief her in on as much as she can know. And Katrina, this is the price you pay for laughing at me. Get used to it, Kat…rina." He laughed and went to his room. They had a lot to do and zip time to get it done in.

Chuck stopped, reminding himself of a promise, turned and walked back to the trio who were each trying to decide how to proceed. He walked up to Carina, hugged her then kissed her (no tongue) and whispered, "Thanks for saving my ass, again, Carina."

Then he turned to an angry Sarah Walker and scooped her up and kissed her like it was going to be their last. It lasted until Ellie finally said, "Chuck, I want an explanation."

He broke off the kiss, stared deep into her eyes and whispered, "Thanks for saving my ass again, Agent. Thanks for insisting on the mahogany. I'll thank you personally and repeatedly tonight assuming my iPod gets packed with the right tracks." He did the eyebrow thing and Sarah just smiled and looked a little dazed and no longer angry.

"Sis, no kiss for you. Too weird. Sarah, tell her what you can. Carina, go to your place and do what you do when you bug out in the DEA and come back pronto. I have _got_ to get a shower." He winked at Sarah and was gone.

"DEA? Carina is DEA? Oh, my God, Chuck's into drugs, isn't he? The company's a cover for drug smuggling and you guys caught him. Is that it?"

"No, Ellie, it's a lot more complicated than that. Let's start with 'if you ever even think of this again the government will kill you' and move on from there. This is a 'no-shit' moment in your life, Ellie. Understand?"

Eleanor Bartowski had witnessed the change in Sarah from the hotly kissed, dazed blonde to the suddenly intense and focused and very intimidating woman.

"Yes, I understand. Think about it and die. I think that about sums it up. Right?"

While Chuck was in the shower and then downloaded stuff from his computer onto data sticks, Ellie learned that the world was an evil place and her brother was smack in the middle of it.

Two hours later she said goodbye to her brother and the two agents and left to fly back to Baltimore. Arrangements for secure communications had been made, hugs and kisses exchanged and tears shed. She looked at the world differently now. Sarah had reminded her of the business card and smiled and told her 'she's the best, she's discreet and she's been there herself so don't try and bullshit her, Ellie. You'll only hurt yourself in the long run. I did.'

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. Sarah, we got a couple safe houses set up for the three of you. You'll remember one of them for sure, Site 7a. Get there before tomorrow morning if you can. You'll find new ID's, money, credit cards, everything you'll need. Contact me when you get there. Stay safe and try, please, try, to keep Chuck from being on TV anymore. I've got congressional hearings next week on the Museum incident. What happened at the office will only add fuel to the fire."

"Hey, that was not his fault. Fulcrum blew out the front of the building. He took out two of them and we got the third. The driver got away and we initiated the self-destruct on the Castle, all per protocols, Director. No injuries on the team. We're clear here in 3 hours or less. Talk to you later, Uncle Art."

"I know, but there are web sites all over the internet asking 'Where in the world is Chuck Bartowski'. You have a couple, too. Mostly porn, though…"

"What? Porn, me in porn?"

"Bye, baby girl. Stay safe."

Sarah walked back to their room. Chuck was quiet, too quiet. She wondered if he was asleep? She worried about another concussion thanks to the blast but felt his actions were normal for…Chuck. She knew he was embarrassed by the 'accident' but honestly had nothing to be ashamed of. An untrained civilian taking out 2 of 3 highly trained and motivated Fulcrum agents was a feat to be proud of. Nature just had a weird way of reminding people about pride.

"Say, Chuck, you about ready to go?"

"Yeah. Just sitting here thinking of all the things I wanted us to do around here and now, well, I guess we'll just have to do them someplace else. Sorry about the B&B, Sarah. I was looking forward to it, too."

"Hey, we're going to safe house 7a. You'll love it. I guarantee it, honey. You got everything you'll need?"

"Yep, ready to flee. Is Katrina back yet?"

"Chuck, give her a break. Ellie was just being mean."

"Well, the mayor is going to be pretty pissed Katrina won't be able to make lunch… or breakfast."

"Chuck! Now that's just mean."

"Since Carina has to drive, how about we sit in the back and provide her some rear view entertainment?"

"Oh my God, who are you? What have you done with my Chuck? That's just cruel. Don't promise what you can't do, Bartowski. We're on the run, not a road trip. You sure you're feeling OK? No chest pains, no dizzy spells, right? You'd tell me right away, wouldn't you? You promised Ellie you would."

"Oh, Jesus, don't you start. First Carina, then Ellie and now you. If I was still in the hospital I'd be dead. Fulcrum would have me where I didn't have you two covering my ass. We keep tempting Fate, Sarah, and she doesn't like it. We need to start being very careful. I've got a feeling…"

She kissed his ear and whispered, "don't forget the iPod. You're going to love 7a."  


* * *

**On The Run**

Carina and Sarah took turns driving. When they stopped for gas Chuck always pumped. Men were less likely to be remembered than one of his stunning companions. And there was no doubt in Chuck's mind that 'they' were looking for them.

They drove north then east up through the mountains and finally found the small town that was the home of 7a.

"Sarah, is there a 7b and 7c and so forth?"

"I don't know, why?"

"Just curious, why not just site 7 or safe house 7? Why 7a, like it's one of a subset?"

"Chuck, turn off your mind, baby, we're on vacation for the next 4 days." She wanted him to relax and enjoy this time with her. Wring all they could out of each day.

Once through the mountain town of 350 souls (until skiing season when it reached almost 3,000 any weekend) they continued on and turned off the main road onto a gravel road that showed poor maintenance, probably part of the cover. Once at the peak of the small mountain Carina parked the SUV to allow Chuck to appreciate the view. Both she and Sarah had been here during winter survival training. That's how they met and became friends. Freezing to death in the dark cemented relationships in the spy world.

Chuck got out and looked down at the cloud-shrouded valley where you could see buildings through breaks in the morning clouds. The sun would begin warming the day but for now the early morning chill drove him back inside where the heater was blowing full blast. Carina was a sun lover, too.

They drove another 15 minutes until they reached the CIA chalet known as 7a. It was a log and stone building with a huge wrap-around porch and a commanding view of all approaches to it. There was a pool and outdoor hot tub as well as the usual outdoor barbeque grills and roasting pits. And it was surrounded by a thick stone wall and had a guarded gate.

They checked through security and drove up to the Chalet. There were other buildings there; dorms and training buildings but they were the only ones in residence. It became a 'safe house' between classes and when the staff was on leave, like now except for the security team.

Sarah and Carina were like little kids. They swiped the access cards security had provided and entered the main Chalet. There were 3 suites off a loft area that doubled as a library and meeting room. Chuck could see terminals and wondered what types of communications were available. He checked his cell and had service. Surprise surprise.

Carina immediately chose the corner suite since she was alone and it was the smallest of the three. Sarah had warned her that choosing the main suite would result in her painful and prolonged death. She wanted Chuck to have an experience of a lifetime. More prophetic words were never spoken.

Sarah dragged Chuck up the stairs by the hand and swiped her security card and unlocked the door. It opened into a sitting room with fireplace. Down a short hallway was the bedroom complete with a fireplace that took up on entire exterior wall. There was enough wood to burn through the winter. Sarah was grinning like an idiot pointing out one feature after another. She took him by the hand and led him into the bathroom. It contained an old claw foot tub, a modern shower and a hot tub out on a private roofed and glassed-in deck.

She turned to him and shyly smiled. "This is why I was excited about site 7a, Chuck. Us in a hot tub, making out in front of the fireplace, and there's enough room to tango, Chuck. I wanted this for you, for us. No one else here to bother us. There's a fully stocked refrigerator downstairs and up here we have total privacy. Only our cards work on the doors so no Carina barging in at an inopportune moment.

"It was worth getting blown up just to be here with you, Sarah. Definitely worth it." She beamed a special smile and asked him what he wanted to do first and he just smiled. "You decide. It's you running this show. I guess we check in with Graham and see what's developed. After that, we'll do whatever you like, Sarah. As long as Carina stays out, OK? I don't share, Sarah." He winked at her. He was kidding and she knew it.

"Why don't you soak in the tub while I check in with Graham. You were pretty cramped back there in her SUV. Loosen up those muscles so you don't stiffen up. I'll be right back and join you in the tub." She kissed him lightly then went down to the main floor to make her call.

Carina was sitting on the couch watching the big screen TV. CNN was covering the "Bartowski Story" and she was watching herself on TV at the Museum. "Sarah, did that dress make me look fat? Or is it the TV?"

"Don't think so. I'm checking in with Graham. Be right back." And she walked out onto the covered veranda.

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. So you made it. Any problems?"

"Nope. Just got here. All safe and healthy. Just tired. Anything new? Carina was watching CNN, thinks the museum crew made her look fat."

"Nothing new. The world thinks you three are dead. We used the Fulcrum bodies to provide substance for our planted stories. The line is a gas main blew and destroyed the buildings. Since no cameras were pointed at the apartments, you guys are still under the radar. Get some rest and please keep Bartowski out of trouble, Sarah. Check in again in 12 hours or so. Be good."

Sarah went to the kitchen area and opened the pantry. She pulled on a shelf and the wall swung open revealing a mini-armory and a safe. She leaned over the scanner and had her retina scanned. The safe clicked and the door swung open. She pulled out their document packages and then closed the safe. She took 3 weapons and extra clips and closed the pantry and went back into the main area.

"Here. Your new identity and a new piece. Any thing worth while on the tube?"

"They have pictures of us but they don't look like us and the one they have of Chuck is cute but older. Nothing really."

"I'm going for a nap. See you later, maybe a group dinner if you want to keep it loose?"

"Dinner, definitely. See you later, Sarah. Be gentle with him, Sarah. He's been bashed around a good bit lately. His pupils are still not reacting right. Don't push him to set records."

Sarah smirked and went back to her room. She put the documents on the worktable, stripped off her clothes, twisted her hair up onto the top of her head and padded into the bath area. Chuck was in the tub, dozing.

'Perfect. Just perfect." She slipped into the water, gasping at the heat, and then sat with her back against him. Chuck automatically put his arms around her and started when he cupped two perfect breasts.

"Sarah?"

"You were expecting Carina, perhaps?" She tried to sound angry but couldn't quite pull it off when his thumbs brushed her nipples repeatedly. Angry became a slight moan and a purr.

"Half expected her to try something to get between us. But I knew it was you."

"How?"

"Vanilla. Her hair smells like cinnamon, yours like vanilla. I love the scent of your hair."

One of his hands moved down across her abdomen, making little circles and feeling the muscles ripple when he began the slow circular motion using the tips of his fingers. He nipped at the skin below her earlobe and left a string soft sucking kisses down her neck then sucked her earlobe into his mouth and worried it with his teeth.

"Chuck, we do have a bed, a big bed and…oh, I like that, right there, oh, yes, mmmm, Chuck, oh, yes, ohhhhh."  


* * *

**Site 7a  
7:00am**

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. We need to bring your asset in for a refresher download on the intersect, Agent Walker. You and your partner will accompany him to the airstrip at the northeast edge of town. A CIA plane and a recovery team will meet you there for the transfer. After completing your hand-over, you and Agent Hansen are released to return via commercial air from Denver to Washington for reassignment."

"The aircraft will be on the ground at your location in two hours. Questions?"

"Director, I thought, that is, well, who will be his handler after the refresher, sir? Are you forgetting that this is my terminal assignment, sir?"

"There will be no need for handlers or control agents for the asset. There will be no need for a 'terminal assignment' since the asset's disposition will preclude any outside or unapproved contacts. You will return for reassignment. Your talents and abilities have been totally wasted on an asset who no longer has any value or relevance. You have your orders, Agent Walker. Carry them out."

She awoke with a start and a short cry. _It was just a dream, oh dear God, just a dream_.

The object of her fears was sleeping on his stomach, a sheet barely covering his lower half, exhausted from their first night of 'vacation'. She smiled and cuddled up against him, throwing a leg over his and reaching one arm across his back. She had almost but not quite surrendered to sleep when she heard the sound of or felt the air pressure change in the suite, or maybe a change in the direction of the air or something. She was alert, her senses reaching out to try and identify the source of her concern.

She heard the pffffft of a tranq gun and felt the punch/pinch of a dart on her backside. The sound was repeated and she slipped into unconsciousness.

After what seemed a lifetime she awoke, groggy with induced sleep and reached for Chuck but his side of the bed was cold. He was gone! She leaped out of the bed, naked as the day she was born, retrieved her pistol from under her pillow and ran from the suite screaming "Chuck, Carina, Chuck" over and over. She dashed around the balcony and down the staircase only to run, literally, into the object of her search who was walking up the stairs balancing a tray with breakfast plates and cups of steaming coffee.

_**OOF! CRASH! CLATTER! OOOH!**_

The tray went sailing, the coffee crashed to the floor and Chuck who instinctively wrapped his now-empty arms around Sarah was knocked to the flagstone floor.

A breathless Carina stood at the top of the staircase gaping at the results of the collision. A very naked CIA agent was sprawled along the length of her asset who was either dead, unconscious or in protective hibernation. What she assumed had been a lovers' breakfast tray was face down and the contents of plates and coffee cups were splattered all over the stone floor. If she hadn't been trying to stop hyperventilating, she might have had the breath to laugh.

Talk about jumping your boyfriend's bones. But the she remembered the panic in Walker's voice and the breathless young woman transformed into a professional DEA agent and assessed the situation for threats. Sarah Walker was not one to panic. Something must have triggered her panicked rush to find Chuck.

The 'object of her search' was lying breathless, a 500 lb blonde gorilla clutching him and mumbling about capture teams and tranq darts and how she couldn't find him and how Graham had called and told her to report for reassignment and how she would never let him go…

_She must have been dreaming. Man, issues. Severe issues and I'm at the heart of them. So much for a romantic breakfast in bed. Oh, man, my headache's back again. Oh, crap, she's naked!_

"Sarah, honey, Sarah, it's OK, you were dreaming, that's all. Now, Sarah, please, help me up here. You're killing me here, Sarah. I can't breath with you lying on my chest, please, Sarah, please get off me." He was starting to panic. The double impact of a running Sarah and an unyielding floor had knocked all the breath out of him. He finally twisted and forced her off of him. Oxygen flooded into his lungs and he felt almost giddy with relief.

"Sarah, it's OK. We're all OK. You were having a bad dream, honey, that's all, just a bad dream. And you're naked, babe, and although Carina is a randy wench I don't think she swings that way so come on, please, help me up and I'll get you back to bed. You're just tired, that's all, and need some more sleep."

"All clear up here, Sarah. No sign of intruders. All alarms are still set." Carina reported the results of her quick recon. Something wasn't right with this situation and unresolved security issues were a no-no in her business. She walked down the stairs to do a walk-through of the main floor.

"Hey, Chuck. Looks like a food fight down here. Lovers' spat?" She laughed to take any sting out of her comment. Chuck was pale and breathing heavily and she could see a small silver dollar-sized pool of blood on the floor about where his head would have struck it. She'd need to check his wound once things calmed down.

"I think she was dreaming something horrible, woke up and thought the dream was really what happened. I heard her yell for you and me and I was on my way up the stairs when she ran me over, literally. Do spies run around naked with guns in their hands as opposed to just sleep walking?"

"Chuck, I'm going back to my room and get dressed. I'll help you up the stairs with her."

"Put her back to bed and stay with her. I'll come back down and clean up the mess. And if you're really nice I'll bring you both some coffee when I'm done with the maid's chores."

"Thanks, Carina. I'm sorry for all this. No good deed goes unpunished. I'll be down to help you out. It's my mess."

"What part of '_stay with her_' didn't you understand, Chuck? She needs physical contact with you. Intimate physical contact. Strip and hold her. She needs to know what she dreamed was just that, a dream. Her reality has to be physical, Chuck, to overcome her mind's view. It's a spy thing, Chuck. Bad dreams are a price we pay for the life we live." One of them, anyway.

Together they walked her up the stairs, and Chuck got her into bed. She'd been crying and mumbling the entire time and he was sure he saw Carina pale once or twice with some of her mumbled comments.

He stripped then had a second thought. He went out and set up the hot tub and came back in. She'd been cold as ice and she needed to warm up. It was in the 40s outside but the water in the hot tub combined with the relaxing jets would help her calm down and relax. Once she was sufficiently calm, he'd dry her off and put her to bed and mold himself to her like a second skin. To say he was worried was an understatement. He needed her sharp and ready. He was the needy one; she was his pillar of strength.

He checked on the hot tub and it felt about right. He picked her up, ignoring the bruised ribs announcing their presence in spades and stepped down into the tub. He sat her on his lap and lowered them both down into the hot water.

"Chuck?"

"Right here, Sarah" He whispered in his ear.

"I'm sorry, Chuck. I woke up. You were gone. I thought a capture team had taken you. Graham called and wanted me to report for reassignment after we turned you over to them. Then I woke up and you were still here and I knew it was a dream but I got tranqued and when I awoke you were gone. I was so scared, Chuck, it was so real, Chuck. Please don't leave me alone for a while. I'm still shaking and it felt so real."

"Shhh, it's all right. I'm here. Are you getting warm? Let me know if you're too warm and we'll go back inside. Sorry about breakfast, Sarah, but Carina promised coffee. Now just relax and let me take care of my baby for a change. Just let it all go and I'll hold you steady, Sarah. Everything's fine, we're fine, Carina's fine. Shhh, go to sleep. Relax and just let all those bad dreams float away."

After 30 minutes Chuck knew if he didn't get out then he'd never make it. The heat had made his headache worse and the worst of it was his legs had fallen asleep as had Sarah. She was sleeping much better because she was making those precious little 'sleep giggles' he loved to watch. It was a sign of contentment so he felt that for now at least the worst was over.

He pulled her hair behind her ear and ran the point of his tongue around its edged. He whispered, "Sarah, wake up, honey, the water's getting cold and my legs are asleep. We need to get you into bed and I need to walk around a bit, find some aspirin and coffee. C'mon, Sarah Walker, lover without peer, help me out here."

"Mmmm, 'lover without peer'? And just how would you know that, Charles Bartowski, Nerd of the Night? You've been with how many women? How large is your sample size, Mr. Bartowski?"

"OK, 'lover of me' then, satisfied? Now, since you're obviously awake, can you get up and out of the tub? I'm kind of stuck here and I can't reach the controls and the damned water is turning cold."

"Sure, as long as we go from this tub directly to the shower. You find your aspirin and coffee and I'll take a shower and fix my hair. Then we'll plan the rest of our day. It's got to be better than it started."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I have to be nice to Carina for cleaning up the mess I made. Breakfast in bed for m'lady ended up all over the floor with me. Yeah, up and at 'em, Agent Walker."

She remembered a 500 lb blonde gorilla comment and Carina saying something but the rest of the experience was lost to the night terror.

Chuck went in search of aspirin and coffee and she showered.

He walked down the stairs and saw Carina watching CNN.

"So, did they get your good side, Shortstuff?"

"Nope. We didn't make prime time, sorry. But we did make about every other venue. How you escaped death at the hands of kidnappers only to fall victim to the fickle finger of fate and a gas leak. 'His charred body, burnt beyond recognition, was recovered and an autopsy report is scheduled for release in a few days.' The mayor said the whole community is in mourning for the 3 of us… what a crock."

"Election year, Carina. Just political positioning."

Carina's cell phone rang. She looked at the display and excused herself to take the call. Chuck wasn't worried. Carina was good people and wouldn't betray them. She was the complete opposite of John Casey. '_For one thing, she is alive', _thought Chuck.

"Hansen, secure."

"Graham, secure. How are things, Carina? Settling in to the partnership with Walker all right? You did a good job at the Museum, Agent. And at the office. Very good. Any problems to report? Are they taking you into their planning process? It's important that we know where they'll go if they go off the grid before we can execute a pick-up."

"Things are fine, Director. Walker had an episode just like we all have occasionally. Chuck's great, taking care of things. He'd have made a fine agent, Director. So, how much longer are you going to let us run free before you either task us, base us, or take Bartowski into a secure facility?"

"We're having several locations scouted. As for tasking, it's still a little premature for a serious mission, Carina. The Museum was a fortunate fluke, you know that. Unfortunate also since it cost us the L.A. operational facility. Still, it couldn't be helped. Damned TV reporters and politicians."

"As for Bartowski and a secure facility? How long do you think we could hold him? And he will make a fine agent, and a fine partner for you, Carina. Things are working out, you'll see, baby girl. Now take care and call me sometime, I miss my favorite foster daughter. You were the last and the best, Carina."

"Bartowski and I will be the best partnership in the Agency, Uncle Art. I'll call when it's clear. Thanks again for getting me out of the DEA. I want to make a difference not spit in the wind."

'_Enjoy your time with him, Walker, it won't be long until you're gone and he's all mine. Your betrayal will drive him into my arms and you right out of his heart. What a team we'll make. That stupid Lynn, she was supposed to stay close to him, not marry him. And then she ignored Uncle Art's recall orders. She deserved her fate. She should have followed orders and left him. I was supposed to be his partner. I had been briefed and trained. It had been planned since the beginning. Walker and Larkin, Hansen and Bartowski. It will be that way, eventually. The future is ours, Chuck.'  


* * *

_

**Site 7a**

The next two days flew by. Carina spent most of her time in her room or using the gymnasium. Chuck wondered if she'd struck up a 'relationship' with one of the full-time security people but figured it was none of his business.

The forecast was for snow over the next few days and that could make traveling over the mountain passes hazardous and so far as they knew their destination was somewhere to the east of them. Graham had not contacted them yet.

Carina was in her room, bored but happy. It was only a matter of time now. As if on cue her cell rang.

"Hansen, secure."

"Graham, secure. We're bringing Bartowski in from the cold, Carina. I'm sending a capture team to facilitate a transfer of custody. Walker will deliver him to a plane thinking it's for a refresher and he'll only be gone a day or two. That's what she'll tell him."

"In reality, once she hands him over to the capture team leader he'll be told he's going underground and that she knew it all the time. That's when you show up. Walker will be out of sight and you'll ride in and save him. You'll have to fill in a lot of details but the bottom line is her trust quotient will be zero and you two will have to 'run' for a few weeks, a month at the most, until we can get her out of the picture and with Larkin."

"It's clumsy but it should work."  


* * *

**Site 7a**

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. Sarah, look at a map and find Sand Springs. We're going to need Chuck for a day or two and you and Carina are going to go to the new facility in Denver and get set up. I need you to be in place and running when Chuck gets back. He'll have fresh files and we're going to be setting up an entire strike team around Team Bartowski. While he's here, we'll make arrangements for his sister to visit. Take some of the strain off of being away from…his team." There was a smile in his voice.

"All you have to do is drive down to the General Aviation facility at 10am and you'll be met by an Agent who will take over security. Make sure Chuck understands we're not taking him to a bunker, Sarah. We need his intel updated and this is the best way to get it done and get the strike team in place. Piece of cake, Sarah. Big things in the future. Be safe, baby girl."

Denver? Why Denver? Oh, well. There were a lot of military installations in the contiguous states and that was probably a significant criteria. Too many times operations out of L.A. had been at the mercy of civilian air transport. Denver was probably an ideal location for whatever the combined agencies planned.

Now all she had to do was talk to Chuck and explain things and make arrangements. And tell Carina. She'd need to plan a route, especially around the pending snows.

Chuck was standing out on the enclosed balcony, drinking a cup of coffee and just looking at the scenery. It was nice here and peaceful. It was the first time in a long while that he hadn't felt pressured to do something, anything, to make plans, to work, to just _do._ It was a comfortable feeling, a new feeling.

"Hey, love, Graham called. I need to run you down to an airport in Sand Springs. You're flying to Langley for a new update of data. You'll be able to see Ellie. Carina and I will go on to Denver. We're setting up a new team base. You'll be gone 2 days at the most, Chuck, and it's not an underground facility, Chuck, and it's at CIA Headquarters, in Langley. So pack a few days' clothes and we'll head out. We need to be there by 10am. I don't know if Graham is going to meet us or not."

"The important thing is that you'll be escorted and protected the entire time and you'll be back in no time. I have to brief Carina and get ready to head for Denver. A new team facility just for our team. We'll need to find an apartment or maybe a small house close by. And get you another Harley; I definitely miss the Harley, Chuck. So pack and let's hit the road."

Surprised, he just turned and stared at her. "A few days? And I'll be able to see Ellie? Well, OK. And you'll be in Denver when I get back? OK. Sounds like a plan."

Sarah went to find Carina. They had to get on the road if they were to get to the airport at Sand Springs by 10am.

"Chuck, I can't find Carina anywhere. I'll leave her a note. We have to get on the road if we're going to make your flight."

"Packed and ready. Carina should be around here somewhere. Make sure you leave her that note, Sarah, don't want her to get paranoid."

Carina watched as Sarah and Chuck drove out the compound entrance and headed for the airport. She'd give them a few minutes head start so she could arrive just as the handoff occurred. It was important to the plan that it looked as if she was thwarting a capture not redirecting his deployment. She knew to load her weapon with blanks for the confrontation. Graham had sent her an emailing detailing the plan.

* * *

**Sand Springs Airport**

They drove past the main terminal and pulled into the parking lot for the general aviation terminal. Chuck got out and pulled his bag from the backseat. Sarah left the car running and walked with him into the terminal. She fought to avoid crying. It was frightening to have him leave her, even in CIA protective custody.

"Chuck, I'll leave you now. The agent walking over here is your escort. Be safe. Tell Ellie I said hi. I'll see you in Denver."

She turned and walked briskly back to her car, unable to stop the tears and unwilling to run back and hug him goodbye. It wasn't professional and she didn't want to do anything to diminish or to tarnish Chuck's image with the other agents. He was more than an asset. He was the intersect. He was her love. And she missed him already.

Chuck turned and followed her as she left the tarmac and entered the terminal lobby. He was surprised at the abruptness of her departure. And even more surprised and how insistent she'd become on the drive down that this was not an underground facility, that he was still free and that he'd be able to see Ellie. She seemed desperate to convince him that it was just what it seemed. Too desperate. His alarms were ringing and the sense of foreboding was overwhelming.

The agent approached and held out his hand. "Mr. Bartowski, let me take your bag. I'm Fred James, and I'll be your escort to the facility. Let's get on-board, please. It's a fairly long flight to Atlanta."

Just then a black SUV similar to the ones they'd used in Burbank drove down the runway towards the plane at great speed. It pulled between the aircraft and the men.

Carina jumped from the SUV and held up her badge for James to see and threw herself at Chuck. She was crying.

"Chuck, oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry. I don't know why they're putting you underground, I'm so sorry, Chuck. Please, I didn't know. Sarah was in contact with Graham. After you left he called and said I need to report to DC for reassignment. I swear I didn't know a thing about this, Chuck, please don't' blame me, I'm so sorry."

While she was hanging on to him, hugging him and crying her story she was also putting a pistol in the back of the waistband of his jeans. She leaned up and whispered, "Follow my lead, we're getting out of here. You've done nothing to deserve a hole in the ground. We're going off the grid, Chuck. I won't let them do this to you."

To anyone watching, it looked like a girl saying a very emotional, affectionate and lingering goodbye. The agent just waited patiently. Some guys get the girls. This guy apparently got two.

Carina whirled and struck the agent across the side of his head with a sap. He dropped in a heap without a sound. Chuck was shocked but reacted quickly. He pulled the weapon that Carina had given him and took a protective stance in front of her. "Carina, grab my bag and throw it in the SUV. I'll cover you while you get back in and I'll jump in the back."

Carina looked at him and flashed him her most blinding smile. _'He's putting himself between possible danger and me. He doesn't know the gun's not loaded but it's the thought that counts. You lose, Walker.'_

She grabbed the bag and threw it behind the driver's seat. She left the back door open and climbed in and motioned for Chuck to join her.

Once he was in, she tore down the taxiway and drove through an access gate and onto the main road. They were going off the grid. He looked out the back window to see if there was any pursuit and saw that she'd thrown his other suitcase he left at 7a and his laptop into the truck. She also had her bags. He climbed over the console and sat in the front passenger seat and put on his seat belt.

"Do you have a destination in mind?" Carina just looked at him and smiled. "Hell no. I was worried about getting there in time to save your bony butt. I don't have a clue, just our bags and whatever's in them.

"OK then, find a bank or an ATM. I'll get us some traveling money."

"No, you can't use any of your ID's, Chuck. They'll have a seek order out in minutes. What we have now is all we're going to have."

"Carina, trust me. I've been planning this for almost a year now. I've got almost $20,000 stashed in small banks all over the western US. We won't starve or have to hitch rides. If you can get us back to Sacramento we'll be able to switch vehicles. And then switch again in San Diego. If we can breach any border crossings into Mexico we'll be fine. I've got contacts on the western coast. And money in the banks down there, just not as much. Sorry, didn't plan on running with a partner."

She looked at him in awe. '_He had a contingency plan in place for the last year? Did he share it with Walker?'_

"Chuck, does Sarah know about this? Locations, money, your Mexican stash? If she does we can't access it."

"Nope. I was going to but something told me to keep it on the Q-T. I guess deep down I really never totally trusted her. I feel like such a fool, Carina. I believed everything she said, every lie, and every promise. She played me and I never had a clue."

"I believed her, too, Chuck. That's why I backed off after the beach and the Museum. I didn't want to ruin things for the two of you. I fell for it, too. I forgot her reputation. She never fails in her mission. She does what it takes and doesn't care as long as the mission is a success. She's made her mark in the Agency as the 'unfailing seductress'. She's a legend at the Academy. They say she keeps score and has a shrine in her DC apartment to all her successes."

He sat quietly, absorbing her words and running over past conversations. Thinking back he could see holes in some stories and outright fabrications in others.

"Find a bank or ATM, Carina. Bank would be preferable. I can draw on my accounts from a bank teller's computer. An ATM limits me to two $300 withdrawals a day."

"I have some money, too. Not your kind of money but enough that we could have made a good run of it. I love your brain, Chuck. You've saved our butts again."

"I walked into that situation like a lamb to the slaughter, Shortstuff. That dream crap, that was a masterstroke. She set the stage, arranged her reaction then when the real deal came, I was totally convinced it was legit. I should have known when she pointed me to the plane and turned and walked away. No goodbye kiss, no holding my hand, no goodbye at all. I feel so stupid, Carina."

"She fooled me, too, and I've been trained to detect this stuff." She spotted a bank and pulled into the lot. Chuck took his suitcase and asked her for a knife. She made a movement at her waist and handed him a knife. He slit the lining and pulled out a driver's license, a tattered social security card and an employee photo ID badge from a Silicon Valley firm and a bankbook.

"Good job. This account is at this bank. It's an L.A. account but I'll tell them we're on vacation and want to stay another couple of weeks and have reached our credit card limit. Should get me a couple of thousand maybe more. Wait here, Shorts, I won't be but a couple of minutes. If someone we know shows up, run. Leave me. Don't wait for me, Carina."

"No way, Chuck. We're partners in crime now. And I don't leave my partner, ever. You're stuck with me until we are safe or captured. Live with it, Chuck."

He looked at her, saw her distress and determination and sighed. "I'm a lucky guy to have met you, Carina. Just sorry it wasn't you they assigned first. I'd have been a lot better off and a lot happier. So, partner, wait here. I'll just be a few minutes, I hope."

* * *

While he was in the bank, Carina called Graham. "We're on the run. We're at a bank in Sand Springs pulling out some money. Chuck's got contingency plans no one knew about. He's been planning for this day for a year, Art. We're heading for Sacramento to change vehicles. He's prepared a really decent escape and evasion plan. Impressive. How's things with Walker?"

"I'll be calling her in a few minutes. I'll tell her the National Security Council overrode my decision while the plane was in the air and turned into a capture and secure. She'll buy that one. In the meantime, the plane is going to disappear from the radar on its way to Atlanta. Sad, tragic. All aboard lost."

"We'll give her a week then I'll send her out with Larkin. You'll have a clear playing field, Carina. Stay safe. I got your back. I'll contact you in a few weeks and give you a plausible reason to bring him in to your new task base. NSC realized its mistake, whatever. I think you'll like working out of Florida, Carina."  


* * *

Even taking turns driving with minimal stops they still were several hours from Sacramento when Carina finally called it quits.

"Chuck, we're both dead on our feet. This has been an emotional day for both of us. There's a small motel up the road, let's stop there and get some sack time, please? Then after a decent breakfast we'll swap vehicles in Sacramento and head south towards Mexico."

"OK. I'm tired; I know you're tired. And my legs are stiff and my ass is asleep. Crash and then leave early in the morning. Good idea. We'll miss the morning traffic that way and be south of LA before evening rush. Sounds like a plan, Shorts."

Carina went in to get the room. No sense leaving Bartowski's face fresh in anyone's mind if the CIA/NSA came calling.

The room was small, in the back but only had one bed. "Chuck, I didn't even ask for 2 beds. I'm so tired I'm not thinking clearly. I'll go back and tell them I need 2 beds because you're my brother or something. Let's get back in the SUV."

"Hey, Carina, no big deal. We're tired. We're here. We're done for the day. You take the shower and I'll bring in the bags. Don't hog all the hot water, Shortstuff."

Chuck brought in the bags and then walked down to a vending machine and picked up something to drink and filled the ice bucket. When he got back he knocked on the bathroom door and there was no response. He could hear the shower running but also the sound of someone's muffled sobs.

"Carina, you OK in there? Everything all right?" No response. "Carina, I'm coming in, decent or not."

He opened the door. Carina was sitting on the edge of the shower bath, her face muffled in a towel, sobbing. Her shoulders shook with the power of her despair and Chuck immediately knew that the full impact of what she'd done had hit home.

"Carina, I'm so, so sorry about this. You shouldn't have thrown your life away for someone like me. I'm not worth it. It wasn't a fair trade. You definitely got hosed on the deal, Shorts. Where's your phone, Carina? I'll call Art and arrange a pick-up point if he'll agree to forget this thing with you and me ever happened. You can go back…"

He was on his back in the motel room and he was being pummeled by 120 pounds of angry naked raccoon straddling him. She was hitting his chest open-handed and sobbing that she'd do it again a hundred times over and that it was her life to throw away and she'd kill him if he ever again said 'I'm not worth it' because he was worth it to her because she loved him and he _was_ worth it.

After countless repetitions of her mantra 'you _are_ worth it to me' she finally just collapsed on him and sobbed her heart out. There was nothing else he could do but put his arms around her and whisper how sorry he was and that he hadn't meant to demean what she'd done, what she'd sacrificed for him. He just wanted to make things right for her and send her back where she wanted to be, in the field as a CIA agent.

Round 2 _ding ding_ "You dumb idiot. I want to be with you. How am I going to do that with you in MaxSec in Atlanta or some other hole in the ground? The CIA betrayed us, you and me. Walker played us and betrayed us."

"Art Graham has never broken his word, he's famous for it. This must have been a higher authority like the National Security Council or the President's Security Advisor. No one else can over-ride Art Graham, not even the Director himself."

"umm, Chuck, I'm cold. Can you let me loose so I can put something on? I just lost it stepping into the tub. I'm sorry I hit you, really, I just, it just, aww crap…"

She started crying again. An emotional agent. This was so refreshing to Chuck. She was as open and vulnerable as any human being he'd ever met.

He managed to get her onto the bed and threw the coverlet over her and still she cried. He went into the small bathroom and filled the tub, stripped off his clothing, picked her up like a baby and settled them both into the tub.

He hoped the warm water and his closeness would bring an end to her near-hysteria. It made him feel guilty that he'd had this effect on her. And that he was responsible for her current state of mind. He seemed to be a guilt-magnet where government agents were concerned.

He looked at her face and chuckled softly. His 'raccoon' was the result of makeup smearing around her eyes from her tears. She looked adorable and his senses went on high alert. _'Do not even think about it, Charles Bartowski.' _ His better nature always sounded like Ellie to him, nag, nag, nag.

'_Don't listen to her, Chuck. Chuck, this one just threw her life away for you. This one you can trust. This one's agenda starts and stops with __**us**__ for a change._' His other side always sounded, well, like himself.

He soaped a washcloth and gently washed the raccoon away. He rinsed off the soap and found himself eye-to-eye with an innocent looking girl of only 18 or 19. How old was she, really? He'd never looked past her brash attitude, her in-your-face assertiveness, or her makeup, to see the girl/woman behind it all.

"Carina, you'll need to finish the rest of this yourself. Sorry for doubting you, Shorts, you've been there all the time and I just never saw it. But I have a really personal question for you and I know it's a sensitive area so feel free to tell me to shove it but I have to ask, Carina, I have to know."

She looked at him, a look of fear and apprehension on her face. "Ask me anything, anything at all. I've never lied to you, Chuck. I told you the truth on the beach when you let me in, and I won't start lying now so ask."

"How old are you?"

"What? That's your big interrogatory for the night? How old am I? That's it?"

"Yep."

"Twenty-four. I'm twenty-four years old. I've never been asked that before. Why on earth are you asking that now of all the things you should want to know?"

"Because once I washed away the raccoon and the makeup and all the accoutrements you armor yourself with, there was this beautiful young girl and I just wondered, that's all. Why? Were you expecting me to ask you to divulge national secrets or something? Honey, I already _know_ all the national secrets, remember?"

"No, you big dummy, I haven't forgotten that you are the intersect man, the caretaker of the nation's intelligence secrets, the knower of all things, the man who has never hesitated to throw himself away for people who don't know or care that he saved their lives. I know that and more. I know that you're hurting and you're more concerned with me that with yourself. I know that your heart's been ripped out again by yet another government agent."

"I just figured the question would be more on the order of 'So, how long will it take before you screw me over, rip out my heart and feed it to buzzards'?"

"Somehow, I don't think I'll ever have to ask you anything like that. Now, as much as I find lying here with you an incredibly sexy thing, we're both tired and I'm only a guy, Carina, so please, finish your bath and I'll take a shower when you're through. OK?"

She kissed his chest and giggled. "Yep, you're a man all right, just the nicest one I've ever met. Here I am, wet and willing and not at all ashamed and here you are, wet and wary and already feeling like you're cheating on her, am I right, Chuck?"

Chuck just sighed and looked anywhere but at her. "Yeah, I guess I am. I'm just a guy, Carina, and it takes time, and I won't lie to you, I don't know how long it will be. She did a job on me. First Jill, then Lynn, and then her. I gotta wonder if I have a secret spy tattoo that says 'Screw him and then screw him up and over'."

"I don't know. Stand up and let me check you over, Chuck. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who hasn't seen you naked." She laughed and kissed his chest again and leaned up, still straddling him. "Yep, you're definitely a guy, Chuck, but I understand the difference between physiology and emotion. So, I'll just take a rain check. Now, get out and let me finish."

When he managed to get his lanky length upright he understood her comment. _Damn it, little Chuck, behave!_

She hugged him, wishing again that he wasn't so damned noble. "Chuck thanks for helping me. I'm sorry about losing it like that. But I'm so glad you were here. It really made me feel better about a lot of things. Now," reaching down and touching him intimately, "please leave before I forget myself and become a rapist." She giggled at the look of alarm that crossed his face. _'Oh, we're going to have such a ride, you and I, my love. No one will hurt you again. Those CIA bitches never knew what they had and they just threw you away."_

Chuck Bartowski disappeared quickly from the bathroom. His emotions were in complete disarray and he knew how vulnerable he was right at this moment. Not many beautiful women in his life had affected him like Carina Hansen had. She knew his thoughts almost as if she could read his mind. He would have felt guilty and it would have been like cheating, although why he worried about anything that heartless, betraying bitch felt was beyond him. But it was how he would have felt.  


* * *

**Site 7a**

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. Baby girl, I'm so sorry. I just got word that Bartowski's plane disappeared for radar about 2 hours after leaving Sand Springs. The wreckage was found in Kansas. There were no survivors. I'm so sorry for your loss, Sarah. Please come home. Take a week or however long you need. I'll send a plane for you. Be at Sand Springs tomorrow morning at 10am. Sarah? Sarah?"

"10am tomorrow. Sure. See you, Uncle Art."

She lay down on the big four-poster and cried herself to sleep.  


* * *

**Motel  
Unknown location**

He never made his shower. Carina found him sprawled over the bed sound asleep face down without a stitch on or apparently any intention of getting up. Once again she sighed, looked fondly and with great yearning at the object of her affections and finally just rolled him over, cuddled up against him, turned off the light and covered them. Getting too warm was not one of her major concerns. Getting any sleep was.

_**Chuck is dreaming…**_

_Chuck was bent over his laptop searching for an alternate route through the passes. The snows had come the previous night and the major passes were closed. Carina was still asleep. Poor thing. Emotionally drained after her meltdown the previous night. She'd thrown it all away for him and the realization of what she'd done had hit her like a ton of bricks. He'd let her sleep until he'd found them a path out or they'd just hole up here another day._

_Breakfast. He was hungry and he knew she must be, too. There was a diner across the highway so he just dressed and walked over and ordered breakfast for two to go. He drank coffee and listened to the locals complain about the weather. He asked on trucker about another route over the mountains and he gave him another option. It would be tricky but with 4-wheel drive they shouldn't have any problems._

_He carried breakfast across to their room. The door was standing open and he could see into the room. Carina was dead, gutted and left spread eagle on the bed. Someone had written 'How many more of us will die because of you?' in her blood on the wall above the headboard. _

"_**GASP**_"

He woke, sat up and looked for Carina. She was sweetly asleep, a smile on her face, appearing not to have a care in the world. He got out of bed, sweaty and a little out of breath, still rattled by the dream, went in and took a quick shower. If only he could shower away his worries and sleep as sweetly as Carina.

He crawled back into bed, pulled Carina close to him and tried to sleep. He remembered her telling him that close physical contact was essential to grounding him in reality to escape the dream. That he could do, the 'intimate' part, he'd pass on.

Carina woke up instantly when she heard Chuck's gasp. She knew he'd had a whopper of a dream and waited to see what he'd do. When he went into the bathroom she'd followed and listened at the door for the shower and returned to bed. He was learning valuable lessons on his own.

When he got into bed and pulled her against him and held her close without really restricting her, she knew he was ok. He had what he needed without taking her freedom of movement away from her. She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him and was asleep in seconds.

Morning came and light brown eyes opened to dark brown eyes watching her sleep. "Ummm, Chuck, do you watch people sleep a lot? It's kind of weird. What are you looking for? Or at?"

"Yeah. I can tell a lot about a person by watching them sleep, mutter and sigh; sometimes they talk in their sleep. You talk in your sleep, Carina. It's not good for a spy to talk in her sleep. Want to know what you said, Carina Hansen?"

Carina felt a moment of panic. She talked in her sleep?

"Well, Carina, do you?"

"You're obviously dying to tell me, so go ahead and tell me, Chuck." She could think of a hundred things she might have said, a hundred things were on her mind. Any one of them would end her chances with this man.

"You said very distinctly and without reservation: 'I do not like green eggs and ham.' That's all. You quote Dr. Seuss in your sleep, Carina. What does that suggest to you? Did the other agents make fun of you at Agent School?"

There was only one response she could think of to avoid a confrontation. She attacked him, going for the kill. Her fingers formed into claws and she clamped them against his upper ribs and…tickled him.

"Stop, Carina, please, I'm an injured man…"

"Then don't pick on me if you cannot deal with the consequences, Mr. Bartowski."

"Shorts, about last night, I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to take advantage of you being upset…"

"Oh, shut up, you big idiot." Her morning kiss was sweet and unexpected. Everything about Carina Hansen was unexpected. She was unpredictable, volatile and dangerous and he found that very unsettling. He thought back to his 'couples therapy' session and the therapist's comment about commitments. Maybe he was more screwed up than he thought. The word 'opportunist' floated across his consciousness. He'd have to think about that.

* * *

**Sand Springs General Aviation**

Sarah Walker boarded the Gulfstream and left her past behind her. She resigned herself to being a CIA agent until she died, either from her broken heart or enemy action. There would be no beautiful children.  


* * *

**Sacramento, CA**

They reached Sacramento later than expected but had no problem retrieving Chuck's backup vehicle. It was a 2006 Mustang and Carina's eyes popped. "Chuck, please, please, can I drive it? Please? I've always wanted a Mustang. Please?"

"Shorts, begging ill becomes you. Chill. It's a standard and I'm not the coolest man with standard transmissions so, by all means, drive."

They stopped just north of Los Angeles and had dinner waiting for the worst of the run hour traffic to subside. Carina had driven the entire way and was showing no signs of fatigue. Maybe now he understood Walker's love of her Porsche.

"Chuck, do you really think we need to go all the way down to Mexico? I've seen no signs of pursuit, no indication of any 'most wanted' news. We've changed vehicles and we have a lot of money… want to go to Vegas?"

"Carina, too many cameras in Vegas. Besides, we don't know if we can get across the border. I'm sure the SoCal crossing will be monitored. You've worked here with the DEA, got any ideas for a better crossing point?"

"I'll have to think about that. If I wasn't off the grid I'd just call my buds at the Border Patrol and ask them but I really think that would be a bad idea. So, are we changing vehicles in San Diego? I really love this Mustang, Chuck. Can't we keep it, please?"  


* * *

They reached Las Encinitas just before 11pm. The place was one big motel since the major USMC base was nearby and thus relatives and girlfriends made up the majority of the guests. A transient's dream location for getting lost among the fishes. No one here would notice 2 travelers since they were all travelers in one sense or the other.

Again it was Carina who got the room. A girlfriend getting a room was hardly rare and a man renting a room would be remembered if for nothing else than it being an anomaly.

The room was clean and nicely appointed and even had a functioning TV set. Carina took control of the bathroom and Chuck turned on the news. There was nothing of interest until there was mention of a small government plane going down in Kansas with no survivors. It was the point of origination that got his attention: Sand Springs. That would have been his aircraft. Were they covering their asses? Tying up loose ends?

Carina came out wrapped in a towel and stopped when she saw Chuck's face. "Carina, the plane I was supposed to be on, it went down in Kansas, no survivors. What do you make of that? Cleaning up the mess I made? Coincidence? Bad luck?"

"Chuck, it could have been any plane. I think you're jumping to conclusions here and the wrong conclusion. What makes you think…"

"They said government plane originating in Sand Springs…how coincidental is that?"

"That's it, I'm calling Graham, Chuck. We need info; we're walking around in the dark. If he thinks you're dead then we're free, Chuck. If it was deliberate, then he'll want me for reassignment. It's the only way to tell, Chuck. I can BS my way around this 'absence' of mine, claiming I was upset with Walker's betrayal, y'know, make it sound like I was off soul-searching."

"Shorts, that lame. He's a smart man; he'll never buy it in a million years. He's the King of Deceit, you could be putting your neck in a noose and I'm not worth the risk."

Her open palm slammed into the side of his face, rocking his head back and knocking him off his seat on the edge of the bed. She hadn't meant to hit him, at least not as hard as she had but he'd said it again.

"Oh, God, Chuck, I'm so sorry, forgive me. I'm so sorry. But you are worth it, you are, to me you're worth everything in the world. I – I …" another crying jag erupted and she plopped down on the floor beside him and cried harder than she had past night.

Her slap had surprised him and the spontaneity of her response could not have been faked. Chuck Bartowski's mind was purged of all doubts about the sincerity and veracity of Agent Carina Hansen. No, just Carina Hansen. She'd thrown her career away for him on the tarmac in Sand Springs.

"Hey, please, stop, Carina, please, I'm sorry, I forgot, it was just a figure of speech, I know how you feel, please, don't do this again. C'mon, honey, please stop crying…"

He was a sucker for tears. Tears from electric blue eyes were devastating but tears from this little brown-eyed girl were kryptonite. He was so screwed. He'd never be able to say 'no' to her. _'Not even Lynn could melt my resolve like Carina.'_

He reached over and pulled her onto his lap. Little Chuck was ecstatic but all Big Chuck intended to do was hold her and rock her until she quit crying. He absolutely hated it when women cried. It reduced him to a puddle of apologetic goo even when it wasn't his fault.

Carina spoke in a very small voice into his chest, not eloquently but certainly from the heart.

"Chuck, is the idea that I could love you so unthinkable or so repulsive to you, that you throw it in my face every time? Do I disgust you? Is that it, Chuck? I think maybe we need to split up and go our separate ways. Maybe you're right about one thing, Art will take me back if only to charge me with treason or send me back to the damned DEA. I'll call him in a couple of minutes, OK? I just need to pull myself together and get my head straight."

"Carina, I said I was sorry. I'm not used to people thinking I'm worth as much as you've invested in me. No, splitting up is not an option nor is crawling back to Graham and begging him for you stupid job back. You're all I have left of my old life. Everyone else, Jill, Lynn, Ellie, Walker, they all betrayed me in some manner, well, Lynn died but she'd been lying the whole time. You've never lied; you've never been anything but up-front starting with the beach. We're together for as long as you'll have me. Just, just, I can't just start loving you, Carina, I'm still, oh, hell, I don't know."

"Chuck, shut up. Stop talking. Listen, I understand. You're hurting. You loved her. She betrayed you, sold you down the river. It's the way she is; it's what she does. Forgive her and forget her. I'm right here and I'm sorry I'm so damned needy and hormonal all of a sudden. Look, let's get some sleep and if you wake up with bad dreams again, wake me. Talk to me. That's all I ask. OK? We have got to tone down the drama, Chuck. We know where we stand with each other and that's enough for me for now. But eventually, tall, handsome but stupid, I'll wear you down and make you love me. You're all I have now, too. Now, shower. I left you a wee bit of hot water."

While Chuck was in the shower Carina took the ice bucket and some change and went out to the snack area and contacted Graham.

* * *

"Graham, secure."

"Hansen, secure. Sorry for the late hour. What's the situation like? We're in the dark here and he's getting nervous. Wanted to call you and turn himself in if you'd 'pardon' me. With Walker out of the picture he'll come around. His concerns are for 'us' now. What can you tell me?"

"Nothing's changed. She came home, mooning around here, crying and staring out the window. She'll be all right once she hooks back up with Larkin. I'll be sending them to Europe for a long-term assignment tracking bank funds to and from the Middle East to organizations of 'interest'."

"Start thinking Florida's east coast. We'll rebuild the intersect operation from there. The current physical plant is slow and inaccurate so Chuck's still the main man. We'll figure out how to update via email. So for now, go on down to Mexico. There's no 'watch' out on you two. You're free until we get things organized. Enjoy the sun and surf and each other. Be safe, baby girl and for God's sake, Carina, buy a watch. It's 4am here."  


* * *

Carina ended the call and filled the ice bucket and got them each a soft drink and returned to the room. He was still in the shower so she brushed her hair out and pulled on one of his t-shirts and waited demurely in bed. Mexico, sand, sun, surf, and the two of them. A real vacation.

Chuck came out in a towel. He was fast running out of clean clothes, something he'd never considered in his planning: laundry. He saw Carina in his t-shirt and decided to lighten up the atmosphere a bit. "Carina Hansen, I'm almost out of clean clothes. Give me my t-shirt, please?"

She looked shocked, then wicked. She whipped it off over her head and sailed it to him. "OK, but don't complain that I'm naked." She started to giggle and that did interesting things to other parts.

He walked over to the ice bucket and carried it back to the bed. He dropped his towel and slipped between the sheets. This was an open declaration of war.

He put an arm around her and drew her to him. She sighed thinking 'finally'. Chuck took out a very small piece of ice and ran it slowly down her neck from her ear to the hollow of her throat. Very slowly. She was stunned by the action and then aroused when he followed the chilled path along her skin left by the ice cube with his hot lips and tongue. By the time he'd reached the hollow of her throat she was moaning softly with each breath.

"Oh, God, Chuck, if this is revenge for the slap, I'm going to slap you every night. Oh, my, oh, my." He smiled. It wasn't revenge; it was a thank you of sorts. He palmed a small piece of ice and then caressed her breast bringing the nipple to an abruptly erect state. Again the hot lips and tongue followed the icy path.

This went on for quite sometime until he rolled here over on her stomach and started moving up the backside of her calf to behind the knee. He had no idea that the knee was an erogenous zone. He continued his path up her thigh and over the buttock and up her back until he was back where he began his journey. He whispered in her ear, very slowly and softly "That was just a small sweet sample, Carina. Think what you'll be missing if you leave me now? Every night a new path. Every night a new discovery and one night, when the time is right, you won't need the ice, Carina. Now, sleepy time." He kissed her on the forehead and closed his eyes.

A small shaky voice came out of the dark. "Chuck, please, don't leave me this way. My God, Walker must have been nuts to throw you away. Please at least kiss me, Chuck. Please. I can't believe what you've done to me. Bartowski if you don't at least kiss me I promise you a slow miserable existence beginning in the next…"

He kissed her just like he'd done with the rest of her. First he ran the ice around her lips and then he popped the tiny ice cube in his mouth and kissed he, his cold tongue teasing her warm one. Her moans were music to his ears and although he had no intention of making love to her, when he broke off the kiss he caught a glance at her face and was pleased to see the raw naked desire in her eyes when she looked at him.

Evil Chuck awoke at last. He took another ice cube and ran it up the inside of her thigh just high enough to where the inside thigh met her abdomen and followed it with kisses leaving her a panting wreck. He repeated it on the other leg and then palmed her folds with his ice-cold palm. He reaction was immediate and gratifying. She arched her back and she screamed out his name.

A few minutes later she looked at him in wonder. "Chuck, what about you?" "Not necessary. I'm a big boy. Call this a sincere thank you for saving me and not giving up on us, Carina. There's so much more for us to explore. Let's just save some things for later."

"But Chuck…" "No buts, Carina. Later will be soon enough. I'm just not emotionally in the right place yet, OK? Please, just let it drop. Please."

She rolled over against him and sighed. "OK, but you don't know what you're missing there, big guy. We'll wait. And then I'm going to rock your world, Chuck, until you can't walk, talk or even see straight. So hurry up and get in the right emotional place."

Five minutes later, "Chuck, I've thought of someone to call to get us across the border. He's a snitch of mine. I'll call him first thing in the morning. Then if the coast is clear let's go down the coast of Baja and find a nice little village with a hotel or a beach house we can rent. Spend a few days or a week or however long just getting centered. I know I could use the down time. My tan is failing, see?"

"Carina, you sunbathe in the nude. You don't have tan lines. You have, ummm, good night, Carina. Put your weapons on safe, please? I really need to sleep."

The next morning Chuck addressed the problem of laundry. He bundled up all their dirty clothes and went to a laundry mat. Carina called Graham again.

"Graham, secure."

"Hansen, secure. Director is the Baja site available? I thought we could kill two birds with one stone. A place to stay and a place to train. Can you check on it for me?"

"Wait one, Carina. I'm having someone check. So you cleared Mexico with him? Good. A couple of weeks in the sun and some basic block training and he'll be on his way. We'll need to arrange a pick-up point for when I call with apologies. If Baja's not available, try further south along the coast. Start him running and working on his endurance, Carina. We don't have weak agents in the field. Not live ones, anyway. Stay safe, I'll get back to you on Baja."

"Chuck, my snitch tells me there are no BOLOs or watches south of San Diego just the usual criminal lists and he says our names are not on them. Remind me to look him up when we go through TJ and give him some money. Never know when we'll need his 'help' again, right?"

Chuck nodded, surprised and pleased and then pointed to a pile of folded laundry. "I do not do windows or iron. So buy permanent press. And let's pack it up and go to Mexico."

The crossed the border with no difficulty. Chuck had stopped at a bank in San Diego and closed his 'savings' account and then taken a side trip to a warehouse where his second vehicle was stored.

"OK, I want your honest opinion. Would you rather keep a flashy and easily recognized Mustang or hide among the sheep in a …" he opened the warehouse door and pointed to a Winnebago Motor home. "I got it for next to nothing provided I drop off the Mustang. Once 'proof of possession' is received, we come back here with the keys. Gotta be a lot more comfortable. And if we get stuck, we can just pull off the road onto a beach and park it. Instant motel."

"OK, but only if the refrigerator has an ice maker. Or we buy bags of ice and fill the freezer. Last night, well, I want a repeat performance, several. But one other condition; I get to drive this monster. It looks like fun. And you can snooze and catch up on your intersect stuff.  


* * *

**Baja Peninsula, Mexico**

Graham had not yet contacted Hansen and Chuck's idea of a mobile motel proved most fortuitous. They drove down the coast road, stopping at every little town and village and acting for the entire world like two people in love and without a care in the world. Agent Hansen felt bored, but Carina relished every moment of every day. Chuck told her what Walker had said about her wringing the most out of every day and that he agreed.

They drank beer in cantinas, ate at family pensions, and drove aimlessly south, enjoying each other's company. When they were tired of driving they stopped and swam in the warm Pacific or just lolled under the canopy of the motor home. She complimented Chuck more than a dozen times on his foresight of acquiring a motor home.

For 3 weeks they'd eaten, played, swam, bathed, drank, argued and slept together, as close to being one unit as possible. He'd felt his heart warming to her presence, her scent of cinnamon replaced jasmine and vanilla as _the scent_ he smelled at his happiest.

For three weeks he'd wrestled with his conscience. He knew in his mind that Walker had betrayed him and that Carina had saved him. He felt his love for her shrivel until it was a dry husk. It made him wonder about the depth of his commitment to any of his relationships. And it made him reluctant to get any closer to Carina. But no longer. Walker was history; he'd always love her just as he still loved Jill and especially Lynn, but she was past tense.

_Then why do you dream of her, why is it her smile you want to see in the morning and why is it her sound and scent you crave. Fooling yourself is no great feat when you're an idiot to begin with._

They had just passed through a small harbor town where Chuck had filled the gasoline tank and dumped the sludge in a campground and refilled the fresh water. He had walked through the market area and bought Carina a peasant blouse and skirt. He also picked up some shirts for himself.

"Hey, Chuck, what do you think?" He turned from driving and glanced at her then pulled over to the side of the road, careful to avoid the sandy shoulder. He'd gotten them stuck more than once in the deceptively soft sandy shoulders. He turned off the engine and walked back to the living/dining area. Carina was standing there in the blouse and skirt he'd bought her. He hair had lightened in the sun and her skin had turned a deep brown.

He walked up and put his arms on her shoulders and looked at her. He turned her around in a pirouette and then picked her up and carried her back to the sleeping area stopping at the freezer and getting out a small bowl of ice cubes.

"You look incredible and I'm going to enjoy taking that dress off you as much as I enjoyed buying it for you." She could only stare in surprise. His brown eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them and his voice was confident and compelling. Part of her was surprised, the rest overjoyed.

He started in as he usually did, and ice trail followed by a thawing caravan of kisses, but she sensed something different. He seemed to be more intense, more engaged in his actions, as if this was a prelude. When he cupped her breasts and laved her nipples and blew his hot breath across them she knew. She knew what was different. Instead of performing tonight, he was participating. It made his actions all the more effective.

By the time he entered her she'd already climaxed several times. When he whispered, "Carina, I think I love you, please be patient with me," she turned to softserve ice cream with a gooey center. She'd never cried before when she had an orgasm but she did that night.

The next morning light brown eyes were staring into dark brown eyes when he awoke. "Carina, what's wrong? You've been crying? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry if I did. What's wrong, baby, tell me?"

"Chuck, you could never hurt me. Last night was like nothing I've ever experienced. It was beautiful and you made me feel so very loved."

"Graham called me, Chuck. He's pretty pissed at us but you were right, he needs us. He wants to talk to you. Whatever you decide is OK with me. If you want to go back to work for him, we'll be partners, if not, well, fuck him, we'll just keep on heading south until we can't go any further. I won't leave you so don't even suggest it."

"Carina, about last night. I meant what I said. Be patient. And I don't feel like talking to the Pimp right now. I feel like making love to my partner in crime. So he'll just have to hold his water. After that, you and I will talk it out and decide what we want to do. He's probably got a satellite watching us right now, anyway, so any delays are easily explained."

Three hours later Chuck called Graham back. It was a very interesting conversation. Carina hung on his every word, grinning like an idiot sometimes, grimacing when he got nasty and called him a self-serving scumbag and absolutely horrified when he told the Director to bring more than two body bags if he was serious about coming for them. And she ran out of the motor home and out onto the beach when he told Graham where to stick his 'offer'.

He walked out onto the beachfront, wrapped in a towel and sat down in the sand next to her. "Well, I suppose I could have handled that a little better, don't you think?"

Carina just stared out at the ocean, counting the storm-driven waves. She would not say anything to this man who had her heart and her future in his hands and didn't seem to know what to do with them until she'd counted 100 waves. No, 200. Yeah, 200.

He sighed, leaned over and kissed her shoulder and got up and returned to the motor home site. He struck the canopy and stored it. He put the hammock and chairs back into the carryall on the back bumper, removed the wheel chocks and raised the levelers.

198 waves.

199 waves.

200 waves. "You idiot!" she screamed. She turned and saw that Chuck wasn't even there to bear the brunt of her raving. He walked out from behind the motor home wearing a wet suit and carrying a surfboard and walked past her and down to the waterline. _'It must have been on top of the Winnebago all this time and I never noticed. What else didn't I notice?'_

Their daily runs, swims and exercises had added bulk to him and his wet suit stuck to him like a second skin. It was at least 2 sizes too small now.

He grabbed his board and ran into the water and paddled out to the first line of rollers. Timing his maneuver he paddled through the breakers and out into the relative calm of the open water. He turned around and watched and waited.

"Graham, secure."

"Hansen, pissed."

"Well, baby girl, I'll be seeing you in West Palm Beach in two weeks. I expect you to look surprised when he tells you he agreed to everything with one exception: he refused to have anything to do with Larkin or his partner. Says Bryce Larkin is a self-serving scumbag and he'll have nothing to do with him. Told me to stick it where the sun didn't shine. Quite a way with words, your boy. I should say man. He's become a man."

"Treat him like one. Don't make the mistake Walker did. He's just a man, baby girl, but a very special man. Don't lose perspective. And tell him to watch the curls on the big ones. He has a habit of misreading the curls and almost drowning when the tube collapses into a comber. Be safe, baby girl."

'_What the hell is a curl and a tube?'_

She looked up and tried to find Chuck but he was behind a large set of waves. Finally she saw him start to paddle like mad and then kneel on his board as a large wave formed beneath it. He got to his feet as the wave continued to rise and as the wall of water formed he cut down across the face squatting down on the board and disappearing into a rolling 'tube' of water. A few seconds later and he emerged and cut the other way looking up and over his shoulder at the cresting 20-foot high wave.

'Oh, my God, he's going to get smashed by that wave!' She started to run down to the water line when suddenly he cut the board up into the wave, climbed it at a diagonal angle and popped over the crest, board going one way and his body the other. He disappeared in a frothing mass of water. She saw his board rocket upwards towards the shore but no Chuck.

A terrified and screaming Carina Hansen is not a thing of beauty. She ran across the beachfront looking for Chuck but only saw the board rocket up onto the strand. No Chuck. A lifetime later she saw him striding up through the waves, wetsuit unzipped looking like some sea god emerging from the ocean. She ran out into the water and threw herself at him knocking him down and both of them rolled with the wave action.

He picked her up and carried her up on the sand. She was coughing and swearing. Her hair was a mess and clung to her face like reddish brown seaweed. He'd never seen anyone more beautiful.

"You son of a bitch. Don't you ever scare me like that again. I thought you were dead, drowned, pulled out to sea, knocked out cold on the sea bottom. Oh, Jesus, no more surfing, Chuck. Do something safe like milking cobras or something. What if there'd been sharp rocks down there?"

"Hey, honey, I just had to have one last Pacific wave. The Atlantic waves are pathetic unless there's a storm. Florida isn't much better. And I've already been torn up on rocks and survived. Haven't you noticed the scar on my back? No big deal, Carina. If you're bored with life, risk it."

"Bored? You're bored? With life in general or life with me? Jesus, Bartowski, you are not immortal and if you do that to me again, I'll prove it to you. So you're bored? Well, when I get done with you…"

He kissed her to shut her up and to lighten up the moment. He hadn't realized he'd frightened her. And now guilt robbed him of the joy of the big wave. Sometimes he understood why surfers never married. Women could be such joy-killers, especially federal agents with a vested interest in one Charles Bartowski.

He would not apologize. He was through apologizing. In fact, he was thinking about being through with all of it. He wondered if he just slipped away some night, walked to the nearest city where he'd stashed some cash in a bank and just became a surf bum if anyone would notice him? Be interesting to try it. Foolish, but interesting. Well, he'd just keep that one as an option in the back of his head.

She clung to him like a barnacle. She had watched him flirt with death for the fun of it. He was insane. Riding a motorcycle was one thing, riding a wave and possibly being smashed into fish food by a zillion tons of water was another. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been that afraid for someone else. And he laughed and smiled and joked about it.

Chuck was putting the board back on the roof of the motor home and checking out some other stuff. There was a ladder on the back and she climbed up on top to see what else was up there. She was shocked to see Chuck check a compass that hung by a string from a railing then squint through a protractor and then turn around and pull down his wet suit and shoot a moon at…what?

"Chuck Bartowski, what the hell are you doing? Have you gone nuts or something?"

"Honey, there's a KeyHole running right along this latitude about now and I figure Graham's already plotted our position by the GPS transponder in your phone and he's been watching us, well, me, and he's probably laughing his ass off at my spectacular wipe out. Well, I told him he could kiss my ass and now I'm giving him the chance. No big deal, just a running joke between us."

"So you know I've been talking to Graham? And you never said anything? You just let me beg and plead and cajole and never said a damned thing to me? You asshole! You've known all along I was covering your ass and you just let me make a fool out myself? Why you son of a…"

He kissed her again, long, wet and deep, sucking her tongue into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth.

"Shut up. I may not have finished Stanford but I lacked only a semester. I'm a trained cyber-engineer and idiot savant. So excuse me if I just let you federal agents do your damnedest. I told Graham this and now I'm telling you. I will not be controlled, I will not be herded around and I'm damned if I'll let the government tell me how to live the one life I have no matter how brief it's going to be."

"This shit in my head is a curse and the only good thing to come of it is you, Carina. So just back off. We're going to Florida. I'll be a good little agent-in-training but I will not work with Bryce Larkin or his lying, backstabbing, betraying blonde whore. Understand? Graham does. Probably did from the beginning. Do you, Carina?"

She just stared. She'd suspected he had some idea of what op they were running but the depth of his understanding amazed her. And he'd never let on at all. He'd made fools of the CIA and her. He made her so damned angry sometimes. Only good thing was me? Oh, Chuck…

That night as they lay in bed, Chuck took stock of his little sleeping Venus. She was a professional agent. She had saved his ass emotionally after the Walker dump back in LA and again, literally, in Sand Springs. The fact that she and Graham were negotiating for him made him uncomfortable with the level of 'oneness' they'd achieved in a very short time. Were their ultimate objectives the same?

Physically, she was perfection. He'd never seen or imagined a woman of such beauty and grace. He could watch her breath and it was like having sex. He knew every square centimeter of her body and still he was learning new things about her, new responses and new demands. She was his constant and yet she was never the same woman twice. He knew it wasn't a conscious thing on her part, just one of those things. God help him if she ever turned on him. He would not even try to defend himself.

Considering what was his for the taking, why did he still harbor such deep feelings for the blonde backstabber? Why did he dream of her and not his little Venus? And why, when things seemed the direst, was it always the damned blonde who was in his thoughts? She had baited him, set the hook and reeled him in ever so slowly. Did she enjoy it? Was that moment on the tarmac her ultimate victory? Would Graham reward her further with his head when the time came? She was back with the RatBastard, probably happy as hell and recounting for their mutual entertainment the destruction of one Charles Bartowski. He should have killed Bryce that day at Stanford. He'd probably be out of jail by now. Could things be any worse?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Three Months Later**

**Lantana, FL**

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Talley had rented a small 5 bedroom, 3-bath home off the 1A1. Mrs. Talley was a sun worshipper and when they weren't sailing or partying, she could be found poolside.

Her husband was retired having sold his software development firm to unknown parties who had paid him "several bazillion bucks" as his trophy wife was heard to say at many of the lavish parties they attended. She left many with the impression that she'd married Charles for his money and that it was the smartest thing she was capable of doing. It was an impression she cultivated. Smart people dismissed her as being 'too dumb' to understand what they were talking about and they tended to speak freely and the information into government files and reports.

There were unsubstantiated rumors about meetings with foreign dignitaries and members of the US government. Senators and congress critters were regulars at their parties. Most were scandalized that they chose to live off the Florida coast in Lantana, deemed by the hoi polloi as being one step beneath Cleveland.

"Hey, Chuck, Art called. We're supposed to hit a party in Miami where some strange people of diverse cultures seem to plotting against the greater good. It's Friday night, no plans, I hope." She looked over her sunglasses at her husband. Jesus but he looked good. A tropical worsted suit, a silk shirt and tie and he was fresh from the training facility.

He sat down beside her on the chaise lounge and ravished her with kisses. "I missed you, Shortstuff. No fun when you're not there egging me on to bigger and better things. So, how was the visit to the Agency clinic? Any problems, seriously now, no bullshitting me. We may be married as a cover but it doesn't change my feelings one damned bit."

The woman of a Columbian drug distributor they'd been tasked to identify and secure had slashed her with a knife and the scar was still angry and red looking. He would never be able to nibble her neck and not see it, no matter how much it faded or how dark the room was.

"Nope. Clean bill of health. You haven't infected me with some strange and incurable STD so you're safe, too. I know where you sleep, Chuck."

When Chuck Bartowski 'died' he started to use his 'spy name' that Sa… the blonde bitch had told him about. That lasted about 10 minutes. Art had finally given in and let him choose his own. He asked for Talleywhacker but was told 'no' and to pick another. If he couldn't have the whole name then he'd opt for half and thus Charles Talley was born in the CIA files. There were no other records in the files other than his name. No pictures, no history, no past partnerships, just his name.

However, the situation was about to radically change as outside forces coalesced into a united front with designs on a major terror attack on US soil. All foreign teams were extracted and brought in to form a response/reaction team to identify, locate and eliminate the threat. These teams were placed under the supervision and control of a mysterious newcomer, Charles Talley and his partner, who had already racked up an impressive score of successful and effective operations.

One of the assigned teams was a partnership of Bryce Larkin and Sarah Walker.

_The mind goes back but time goes on and goodbyes should be forever._

End GreenEyedGirl16


	17. Carina meets the whammy and CharahCorp

GreenEyedGirl17

A/N: _Heading back to New Orleans. This is __**not**__ the last chapter. Up to 9 readers now. Oh, happy day._

_As usual, all the locales are accurate although the owner of the Two Georges is a corporation. Carl is a figment of my imagination. There really was a Murphy 7 years ago. Sadly, he ate too much tourist food and expired at an early age from too much of a good thing. My ex-B-I-L found him in the waterway and got him fixed and left him there to live the good life. Google Lantana and Boynton Beach. Nice people there._

_BTW, Morgan Freeman is my Arthur Graham. He's much more believable than the idyud on NBC._

_A-P-R  
20Jul2009_

_

* * *

_Lantana, FL

Charles Talley and his "wife", Carina, had just returned from an early dinner in Boynton Beach at the Two Georges, an open-air bar/restaurant that sat on the Intercoastal Waterway. Carina loved to throw bits of seafood to the brown and gray pelicans that landed on the pilings that supported the dining deck and he never tired of watching her simple joy. Even if the marriage was all cover, he was content although far, far from happy.

Murphy had ignored Carina as usual and as usual that pissed her off. The injured pelican didn't like her or trust her but would eat her food if Chuck fed him. He helped polish off Chuck's plate more than once to her disgust and Chuck's delight. After all, he was a kindred spirit.

She had been injured on a mission. The sight of her blood and the look of fear in her eyes broke his heart along fault lines that had been well established by Jill, Lynn and Walker. It was more filial love, not the kind he'd felt for Lynn or Walker. God, how he _still_ loved Sarah Walker.

He still dreamed of Sarah Walker. It was her smile he still dreamed of and wanted to see first thing in the morning and when he thought of children, she was always their mother. Somehow Carina never seemed to be in his musings of the future.

With Carina, he wasn't sure if 'love' was the proper descriptor. Perhaps 'cherish' or 'treasure' were more appropriate but he wasn't a semanticist so he really didn't give a damn. All he knew was that Carina used to be happy and satisfied just sitting on their veranda and holding hands watching the boats on the waterway, drinking beer and just being together. And she had been fantastic in the sack that one single time in Mexico.

Except for certain subjects, she was just an incredible person to be around. And she always had time for her needy Chuck. But lately she'd been nagging at him to spend more "quality time" between the sheets. He'd told her in Mexico just like he'd told her other times that any action she got would be with her battery-operated boyfriend or a discrete fling. He was not interested in sex with her. Not since Ellie's emails.

Of course, she was ecstatic driving the vintage Jaguar XKE he'd bought her as a 'wedding' present. Her reputation among Lantana's 10,000 year-round residents was legendary as the 'rich lady who flew her car' instead of driving it. If she hadn't been able to sweet-talk the local cops out of several tickets she'd have had her license revoked twice over. It was only her skill and mastery of the vehicle that convinced the cops to let her go on more occasions than he knew about.

He had to admit it, being alone was not his thing. Nope. He was a self-centered and needy bastard but since he recognized it and since he made no secret of it, he dismissed it as unimportant.

He was a person who craved people around him. Maybe that's why he always fell, hook, line and sinker for the chicks that'd made their interest in him known. He was more prey than hunter – of women, at least. But he knew from his past that the prey could become hunter in the blink of an eye given the right stimulation or circumstances.

The only one he'd ever 'hunted' had been Lynn and she'd proven to be elusive prey. Now he knew why but it hadn't changed his approach. For some reason, he knew she was the one. He'd been both right and wrong on that score.

"So, you given any more thought to tomorrow night? Graham got us invitations and it's for TWO, Chuck."

"I'd really rather you sat this one out, Carina. You're not back to 100% yet and I've got a bad feeling about this one. I don't suppose you'd consider being my comm. and sitting in the van while I go solo, would you?" He desperately wanted this recon to be a solo mission.

"Chuck, we're a team. We go in, walk around, you do your flashy thing and I do the bubble-headed trophy wife who giggles at all the right things and pushes my boobs all over you while I take pics of your flash targets for the surveillance team to enhance and identify. I've even got a new dress to cover the scar until I can get it properly reduced."

"I suppose you're already discussed this with the Pimp? You do handle that part of our relationship with the Director."

"Chuck, please, let's not argue about him again. I explained the whole deal in Mexico and you'd already figured out most of it before we got the recall. He didn't have anything to do with sending you to Atlanta. The Security Council made that decision and dealt with the handling agent, you-know-who. So, please, let it go, at least for now?"

"Fine." And I'll be interested in the explanation of just how all this came to pass.

"Oh, goody. Pouting Chuck." She knew he would always harbor a love for Sarah Walker despite all the evidence presented that she'd betrayed him and put him on a plane that later conveniently crashed. He still could not totally get over Sarah Walker. These instances were the only times they fought other than sex.

He never said anything about it but she knew his mind was still churning every single bit of information available 'in background' as he'd once described it. She dreaded the conclusion. He'd built a legend on 'connecting the dots' even before becoming a real agent.

She had deceived the man she the man she would admit to being infatuated with into abandoning a woman he truly loved. She had mercilessly stalked and seduced him, using his heartache against him. Carina had used his overdeveloped sense of guilt to initially ensnare him. She was willing to pay _any_ price to help 'the man she loved' she'd told him. After all, she'd thrown away her career for him and she'd assaulted federal officers for him. And she preyed mercilessly on his one unconquerable fear: abandonment. His mother, his father, his sister, Sarah Walker, all had eventually abandoned him.

She'd played on his grief and despair as she had that night on the beach. She'd done everything but trot out a headstone inscribed, "Here Lies Carina Hansen, Killed for Loving Chuck Bartowski". And she would have done that, too, if it would have expedited things.

But it was his unconscious fear of being betrayed and abandoned yet again that finally did him in and ironically, it was Sarah Walker's defense of Carina's behavior that gave her the key: wring as much as you can out of each day of life. Walker had told Chuck that and he'd told her. She convinced him that that was the only way to survive the spy life or life off the grid.

"Think what you will, Carina. I will never trust your precious Uncle Art and I will have as little as possible to do with him. You handle team communications with him, it's how it's always been since our confrontation in Mexico. Be sure and let me know what feat of daring he wishes completed and I shall endeavor to accomplish the same. Now, I think I'm going to change clothes and take a walk on the beach. Oh, and be sure and tell me _all _he says, not just the parts you think I should know. We _are _partners, y'know?"

He got up and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She sighed. It was the closest they'd come to sex since they arrived in Florida. She knew he missed her in bed, not just because of the sex but also for the comfort and companionship. He'd started sleeping out on the oceanside veranda on a chaise lounge when the weather permitted and in one of the other bedrooms when it didn't.

Chuck was a physically needy man who needed the constant validation of his worth. That was the bottom line and it took her a while to figure it out. But now he seemed to have risen above the need for physical intimacy and seemed just as happy holding her hand or watching her feed the pelicans. And it was happiness. Or satisfaction. She wasn't sure which and wasn't sure if it mattered. Now it was she who needed him. Now she was needy and he wasn't cooperating. What in the hell had gone wrong?

"Hansen, secure."

"Graham, secure. Chuck's still not taking my calls. Any progress on that?"

"He refuses to have any direct communications with you. He says since I did all the talking in Mexico I should just continue."

"Stubborn bastard. Any idea where his head's at, Carina? Is he fit for the job?"

"Sure he is. He's just pissed at being manipulated and jerked around. And he's totally withdrawn from me physically. He's happy but not between the sheets. I can't figure it out but I will. But he's ready for the mission. Whoopee."

"This is a straight recon. There'll be another team there as backup. They'll stay out of sight. I doubt if he'll even know they are there. His mission is what he's best at, identify and figure out why the players are here in the States."

"I'll pass it on. Is he allowed to know about the other team? Or is it totally covert surveillance?"

"He has no need to know, Carina. They'll be in the surveillance van."

* * *

She went to find her…what? Boyfriend? Lover? Housemate? Partner? He said he'd be on the beach.

She saw him walking about 100 yards up the strand. She jogged to catch up to him and was amazed to find she was winded after the first 50 yards. She called to him and bent over at the waist trying to catch her breath. When she straightened up she saw that he was running towards her.

"Is everything all right? Are you sick? Carina?"

"No, just really out of shape. Whew. Hope we don't have to run tomorrow night, Chuck."

"If we do, I'll carry you. Now I take it the Pimp gave you an ultimatum, go with him or else, right?"

"Yep. Right the first time. Sorry, orders."

"Fine. Have it your way but if I abort the mission, we both scram most riki tik, capisce?"

"Yes. And your Vietnamese and Italian suck."

He put his arm around her waist and the other under her arm. "Come on, you'll need to relax after your workout. What did you run, 50 yards? 60?"

She punched him in the arm. "Bastard, I've been injured in the line of duty."

"You mean lazing around the pool all day instead of walking like the doctor told you to, don't you?"

Carina sailed down I-95 hitting triple digits occasionally and blowing the doors off slower vehicles. Chuck knew she would one day wrap her beautiful body around an 18-wheeler but for now he just prayed she wouldn't do it tonight.

**Boca Raton, FL**

They pulled into the circular drive of a nice little 10-bedroom house in the most exclusive neighborhood in Boca Raton. Carina handed the keys to one of the valets and whispered something in his ear and he stepped back and passed the keys to another. Chuck laughed just imagining what she must have said. She was as touchy about her Jag as Sar…

Just one night, Lord, just one? Please?

She was wearing a red sleeveless dress that collared around her neck and opened up between her breasts and plunged down to an almost indecent level. Slits up the side enabled her to walk. Thankfully, she'd agreed to 'sensible heels' and didn't stumble and fall off her 6-inch specials.

"Shortstuff, if you aren't the most beautiful woman here tonight, it will be a sure sign of the 2nd coming." She blushed and stood on tip toes and brushed his lips with hers. "Thanks, I didn't think you noticed anymore."

Just one night, Lord, just one? Please?

Their comms had chimed a connection when they'd pulled into the driveway and they both verified their status. "Talley up". Then Carina's "Talley up". She really played her role as cover wife to the hilt.

They made their manners to their host, thanking him for his gracious invitation to meet others since they were new to Florida. Carina did the bubble-headed trophy wife thing while Chuck kept his eyes roaming over the crowd.

He squeezed Carina's elbow as a signal of a flash. Samir Balducci, an Italian of mixed ancestry known for his love of expensive cars and yachts. And also known to have fronted the cash for several Yemeni training camps for extremists. No warrants but a definite person of interest. He spoke into his cuff and reported his information. Carina vaguely waved her clutch purse in his direction and took and transmitted a photo.

Walking towards the bar, Chuck snagged Carina a flute of champagne and flashed on several men in a group who stuck out like sore thumbs. He reported his info and Carina took photographs. He flashed on two of them. Both were deep water freighter captains, one Yemeni the other a Turk and both had a history of transporting sanctioned cargoes to renegade nations in direct defiance of UN resolutions. He reported the flashes and information.

He flashed on the last member of the thumbs. He was a past commander of the Islamic militias in Yemen and now considered by many to be a mercenary. His merc force numbered more than 400 but that was in 2006; the strength now was unknown.

He needed another update of the intersect files and he was afraid to trust Arthur Graham. Afraid wasn't the right word, terrified was more appropriate. After what he'd done to him and what he'd done to his own foster daughter, the trust quotient was negative.

They'd passed through the entire group of guests and into a small salon where several women were seated, drinking and chatting. They all looked like high-priced hookers and Chuck figured they were the 'escorts' for the sore thumbs he'd flashed on earlier. Seeing nothing of interest they reversed course. "Carina, I think it's time to take our leave and go. I think we've exhausted our opportunities here."

"Chuck, the orchestra's setting up. Can't we stay a bit and just relax?"

"Carina, the mission is complete. You know the rules better than I do."

He spoke into his cuff mike, "Mission completed. Thanks for the support. We'll await analysis at our home in Lantana."

"You son of a bitch. I should have let that blonde bitch send you underground. I should have let you get on that plane to Atlanta. I should have let you fly off to become a smoking hole in the ground.

"It would have been the merciful thing to do for me, Carina."

Then they both heard the chime of the comms disconnect.

**Commo/Surveillance Van**

In the communications and surveillance van the two agents assigned originally to back up and then, at the last minute to commo, were looking at each other. One was grinning through her tears and the other was perplexed. They had both heard the heated exchange between the resident agents.

"Sarah, I don't understand. Graham reported him dead in a plane crash. You were told he was dead. He was supposed to be going to Langley, not Atlanta. The only thing in Atlanta is the MaxSec facility. Hansen arrives in time to keep him off the plane and 5 months later they show up here?"

"Bryce, it's complicated. I can't tell you all of it but I can fill in the blanks from my end. The reason it's so complicated is that we've never been able to make a connection with each other since the hand off. It's always been through a 3rd party. Bryce, I haven't really talked to Chuck since that day. And he's been just as isolated from me."

"OK, we've got the time and apparently Chuck and the Little Bitch are going back to Lantana and play hide the salami. And you're ok with that? Jesus, I hope when I find my soul mate she's as tolerant as you are."

"She's not getting anything from Chuck. She had him in Mexico and that was until we made our connections through the cut out. Once he figured things out he became a monk. I know my Chuck. I know what he went through thinking I'd betrayed him and sent him to his death after my promises and our vows to each other. He only found out on one of his last days in Mexico when he went shopping for some shirts.

* * *

**Chuck's Tale**

**Mexico**

Chuck found what he was looking for on the 'richer' end of the market place. He went in, ordered 'coffee and a connection' and sat down at a back table and logged onto his email account at gmail. He had 176 emails, only 7 were from 'LADOC'. He dumped the spam and then sat back sipped his coffee and read his sister's emails. They'd set these accounts up the last time she'd been in LA. He told her if she got 'news' about him and didn't have an email from him by the 8th day, then the 'news' was probably right – he was dead or imprisoned.

He'd emailed her on the 7th day after the reports that CyberLogicals had blown up and all employees killed and 2 days after the aborted flight to Atlanta.

It just said 'I'm OK.' That was all, just a short but brief and unambiguous statement.

Her first three emails were simple thanks for his safety but the fourth and fifth emails were both enlightening and heartbreaking. Sarah Walker had tracked Ellie down through a mutual friend, a therapist, and shown up at her apartment door and had spent the next four hours sobbing her heart out about his 'death'. Ellie was stunned, especially since she'd received the 'I'm OK'message just the past evening. She listened to everything Sarah had told her, a repeat of what she'd told her in L.A. after the explosion – the 'think about it and die' thing.

She didn't trust anyone and kept quiet about Chuck's email. It broke her heart to see Sarah in such emotional agony but didn't want to 'spill any beans' in case it was all an elaborate set up to catch Chuck in something. She had no idea he'd gone off the grid with Carina at that time. All she knew was that Sarah Walker thought she'd sent Chuck off to Langley only to learn he'd been diverted to a MaxSec facility but that the plane had gone down without survivors. And that she never kissed him goodbye or told him one last time how much she loved him. He died thinking she'd betrayed him and she couldn't live with that memory. What was she going to do?

Ellie had asked Chuck the same question in her email. "Chuck, what should I do about Sarah? What should I tell her? What _can_ I tell her?

The fifth email almost sent him into a rage. The Pimp had teamed Sarah up with Bryce Larkin and was sending her to Europe to trace money transfers between parties of 'interest' and banking and financial institutions. Their cover was as a married couple with money and time looking for possible employment. It was what Sarah had feared the Pimp would do if things with Chuck didn't evolve along his 'chosen path'. She was miserable and had considered resigning but was told 'people like you don't resign, Sarah, they die in accidents, disappear, get strange fatal diseases but don't resign or retire'.

'Chuck, she's lost at least 15 pounds, looks haggard and like she hasn't slept in days. She's going to make herself sick or kill herself if she doesn't snap out of it. Please let me know something. It's cruel for her to suffer when all I have to say is "he's alive and well, Sarah, alive and well and off the grid."

"Please let me tell her something positive, Chuck. She's dying of a broken heart. She thinks you went to your death believing a lie about her, about your relationship being just a cover. It's not right, Chuck."

The last two emails were repeats of the 5th, entreaties to Chuck to respond and advise how to deal with Sarah Walker who continued losing weight and looking like death warmed over.

He emailed back to tell Ellie that he was off the grid with Carina and would continue contacts as often as possible without Carina knowing. He told her to tell Walker that he was alive and well and off the grid in Mexico, nothing more. Too many games being played. Just when he thought he'd figured things out the puzzle pieces changed shape and moved around.

* * *

**Sarah's Tale (cont.)**

"When I first got back from Sand Springs I contacted a mutual acquaintance of ours and she gave me Ellie's address. So before I left to join you in Amsterdam I just showed up there one evening and when she opened the door and I saw her I just came apart. I cried and told her everything."

"She hadn't heard from him using their email arrangement and she was afraid he was dead or worse. Bryce, I just sat in her apartment and cried for almost 4 hours. I pulled myself together and drove back home. A few days later I got an email from her saying that she'd heard from him and that he was off the grid in Mexico. Nothing more. And that was all I got until I received a phone call in the middle of the night in Brussels. I was in one of my crying jags and my iPhone rang."

'_Hello (sniff), hello (sniff)?_

'_Sarah, please don't cry anymore.'_

"And that was it. I traced it to a pre-paid cell phone in Mexico so I knew it was him. And I was all right for a while."

"A month later I got a call when we were Salerno looking at shipping records, again in the middle of the night.

'_Hello, this better be good, it's 3am.'_

'_Look at the TransCorsica shipping manifests for the last six months of last year. And be careful, Sarah.'_

'_Wait, please don't hang…'_

"Wait, that was how we made the connection between Naples and Salerno. Chuck did that? How? Why?"

"And do you remember we had to shoot our way out and wait for the _Guardia_ before we could go back in and seize the records on an Interpol warrant? He was watching out for me, for us, from Florida. I traced it someplace around West Palm Beach but he was still using a prepaid cell."

"So you're saying the big score that put us on top for a change came courtesy of Chuck Bartowski?"

"Chuck Bartowski is dead. And yes, he provided the lead. He goes by another name now, a joke, really. It's to remind me of other times. He wanted 'Talleywhacker' not Carmichael as his 'spy name'. Apparently he settled for half a loaf. Thus was born Charles Talley."

* * *

**Chuck's Tale (cont)**

**Mexico**

"Morgan, it's Chuck Bartowski. Morgan, Morgan, goddammit, Morgan quit shouting and just listen. I'll email you a list of things to get done and where you'll find the money to do it. If you screw this up, little buddy, I really will be dead. I mean it. Now, quit the BuyMore and go home right now. I'll call you in about 3 hours and go over the email and answer your questions."

"Yeah, it's good to be alive. Now, go quit. Don't mention this to Anna. You'll make $24k to start and $36k within 6 months. You're the new managing director of CharahCorp Int'l. Don't screw this up and I'll make you a millionaire before you're 30."

"No, Morgan, it's not drugs. It a software program I own. Morgan, this is a prepaid cellular and I have no idea how much time I have left. Hang up, quit, and go home."

"Morgan, tell Anna you won the Lotto, I don't care. Your sex life is not up for discussion. As soon as she finds out about the benefits package and the base salary plus commissions, she'll do anything your perverted mind can imagine. Now, goodbye, Morgan, talk to you again in 3 hours."

**3 hours later**

"Morgan, did you get the email? Don't print it our and after you do each task, delete that paragraph from the email. Yes, I know it's complicated but just do what the email instructs you to do. No, Morgan, you cannot tell Anna I'm still alive or I'll be dead and so will you and so will Anna. I'm running from some scary guys, Morg, worse that the Crips ever could be."

"Morgan, no, you cannot tell your mother. I don't care that Big Mike will ask her, that's his problem. You just tell them you got a job with a software company that's in start-up mode and you're helping them set up an office and such. Invent things to keep her happy, Morgan. Think 8th grade and homework excuses. Now, did I tell you this is a prepaid cell? Good bye Morgan."  


* * *

**Sarah's Tale (cont)**

"About two weeks later I got an email from Ellie. Carina had been slashed in an operation and Chuck was feeling guilty but otherwise he was OK. That's the first time I knew who he was with. I vowed then to kill the deceitful bitch. Apparently Ellie wasn't supposed to tell me about her."

"I got my early morning call about 5 days later. I was in a bitchy mood because that was right after you and I had had that huge fight about our sleeping arrangements and our cover. I was weakening, Bryce, because I knew that Carina would be on him like a 2nd skin and he was vulnerable."

'_WHAT? Chuck, is that you? Say something? So, you enjoying your new plaything, Carina?'_

'_One time, in Mexico. Before I figured things out.'_

"And he hung up before I could say anything. God, I was a bitch. I didn't think he'd call me back after that. Embarrassed or angry, I didn't know. Again I traced it back to south Florida, north of Miami. Still using a prepaid and no caller ID. It was so frustrating."  


* * *

**Boca Raton, FL**

"Come on, Carina. This mission's done. Time for you to fly north like a snow bird."  


* * *

**Lantana, FL**

And fly she did. He glanced over once and saw the speedometer pegged at 140 mph. There wasn't a cop on 1-95 who had a snowball's chance in hell of catching her. When they arrived back in Lantana she was in full fury. How such a little girl could muster up such rage was amazing and a little scary. He wondered if people in Lantana would hear her across the waterway.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Chuck? Can you tell me? Do you even know? I'm still the same girl that saved your ass at Sand Springs and the same girl you made love to ONE TIME in Mexico and not a single time since then? What? You only have ONE shot in your little pistol?"

"You seem to be happy. You tell me you're happy. You tell me you love me and you seem to believe that. You take me places, you treat me like a queen but here, you just walk away. You spend more time in that damned hot house than with me in _this _house. We haven't even shared the same bed since we got here, Chuck. I miss the touching and just being close. We don't have to have sex, Chuck, just, please come back and hold me at night. I miss you."

No response.

"Chuck, if things don't change, don't become more comfortable, I'm going to request reassignment. I can't stand being here with you and not _being_ with you. It's too cruel."

Chuck almost laughed. '_What did she know about cruelty? What did she know about missing someone, about touching and being close to someone? Nothing. But she's going to learn. I honestly believed everything she said. I tried to be hers but something kept stopping me, kept us apart except for that one time, just the one time. And I will regret that single moment of weakness until the day I die. I became the betrayer that day so who am I to cast stones at Sarah?_'

_I am just not cut out to be a spy. Too much deceit, role playing, feints and sleights, saying one thing but meaning another, interpreting conflicting signals and most of all, isolation. I need people. I've always been one of many, not a lone wolf. I'm a team player not a soloist. There are too damned many trust issues in the spy world and obviously I'm too damned trusting. _

"Carina, calm down. I'm going to change and then go for a walk on the beach before bedtime. Sweet dreams, Carina." And again he kissed her forehead.

"God damn you, Chuck Bartowski, damn you to hell!"

"Why Carina Hansen! I thought you knew. _He already did_. _Where do you think we are, Carina?"_

He turned and went to his bedroom and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. When he came out she was nowhere in sight. He went to a gun safe in the back of a walk-in closet in '_her_' suite and removed his Colt 1911, an aluminum silencer and two spare magazines and went out onto the veranda to wait. He wasn't sure who'd be coming or how many of them there would be. It all depended on how badly he'd spooked Carina Hansen. They might not come tonight but when they did, he'd be ready for them. He would not go quietly again.

Carina was so upset about the argument that she went to find her cover lover. She found him asleep on the veranda in a deck chair, sitting upright, with his monster silencer-equipped M1911 in his hand and two magazines in his lap.

'My God, who or what is he expecting? Is he afraid I'll have him picked up? What is going on in that complex mind of his?' She walked away, not wanting to risk awakening him and totally uncertain about what would make him this paranoid. Was it paranoia or did he just _know_ something?

* * *

**Lantana, Fl**

Chuck wandered around the house until he found Carina. "Hey, Shorts, I need you to call your Director and arrange a refresher for the intersect data, please. The newest stuff is 7 months old and it's not always good data. I guess someone can fly down here with the gizmos and do it. I'm sure as hell not going there. Too many bad things happen to me in airports."

Carina glared at him. "You want the damned update, call him yourself. I am not your damned lackey. I am supposed to be your handler, remember? Oh, that's right, big bad Bartowski will not be handled any longer."

He transfixed her with a withering stare.

"You're going to screw up some day and say that name around the wrong people and one or more of the two people in this room might end up dead. It's Talley now, courtesy of your blessed Uncle Art. And in consideration of your sudden sensitivities, I'll refrain from calling him Pimp. Give me the damned phone, Carina, and go raisin-up. Your tan's fading and your skin's getting soft again like a normal human being's."

She threw her phone at him, shrieked, and went to her room.

He laughed. Her buttons were so easily pushed nowadays. And she had so many buttons.

"Graham, secure."

"Talley, feeling threatened. I need an update, Art. I won't come there. Your aircraft don't fly well and refuse to disobey the laws of gravity. And yes, I still have my insufferably bad attitude and we both know why. Send somebody down here or something. I have a feeling the results of last's night soiree will be greatly enhanced. I hate to admit it but something stinks down south and it isn't Chavez. Can do?"

"Well, it would be easier if you'd just come up to FT Meade, Chuck. We could all sit down and settle these imaginary differences you seem to have. You've greatly unsettled Carina, Chuck, greatly. She's making reassignment noises."

"So reassign her. I need a partner I can trust, Director, not a handler. If you don't agree, then you're wasting agents. I can do the job; I just don't need to worry about who's standing behind me. If they won't stand beside me, then they're useless. You should explain life to her, sometimes. Especially the part about loyalty and honor."

"So, what'll it be, Director? Stale info in critical times or a fully functioning intersect with 'connect the dots' capabilities?"

"I'll arrange something in Miami. You have Carina bring you down. Maybe take in some nightlife. Make nice with her, Chuck, she's saving your life every day. Your bad attitude _is_ insufferable lately."

"Good. Let her know when it's ready. Thanks."

He looked at his hands. Shaking hands were not a good sign. He knew he was on borrowed time here. The intersect at Meade must certainly be viable by now. And that meant one C. Talley was suddenly surplus to needs of the Agency. Governmentese for obsolete, redundant, superfluous, useless, disposable, gone.

He thought of something, or rather his subconscious said loudly, "Hey, look at what I found!"

"Graham, secure."

"Talley, surprised. Art, run a list of all explosives stolen in Florida in the last 90 days and then ask the Brain Trust to figure out the tonnage required to cut the spans on the Overseas Highway and the bridge to Key West and to isolate the southern most keys from the mainland. Those freighters sitting out there to the east and west of the Keys both with engineering casualties, both skippered by guests at the party, both with jihadist leanings and add in the militia commander and his modus operandi of isolating targets and then massacring all the people… interesting. I'll email you my thoughts."

Arthur Graham smiled and lifted the phone to order the reports and analyses. Insufferably bad attitude or not it was the only game in town. The idiots at Meade had screwed up another intersect and lives were lost this time. He'd have the updates transmitted to the Miami field office and then contact Hansen and remind her how the world worked.

* * *

**2 hours later**

"Hansen, secure."

"Graham, secure. Drive your partner down to the Miami field offices this afternoon and get him refreshed, please. I'll have some reports and exhibits for him to review. And Carina, keep him happy. It's your job. If you can't do it, you're out of a job. The DEA is looking for agents in Alaska and American Samoa. I hear the Aleutians are becoming right toasty thanks to Global Warming. Don't screw this up and don't mess with the man. He's a lot more important than one spoiled brat agent with an uncontrollable libido."

She shrieked her frustration. Damn him and damn Chuck Bar…Talley. Keep him happy? Crap.

Chuck sat on the patio overlooking the dunes and the ocean. Beside the pool. What idiot felt the need for a swimming pool less than 100 yards from the Atlantic Ocean? Talk about conspicuous consumption. It's a wonder half the homes on the 1A weren't painted pink, purple or some equally hideous color.

He looked at his watch. 11am. Another day in paradise almost shot in the ass. Carina had mumbled something about going to Miami and updating so apparently the Pimp had words with her. She hadn't shrieked since 9am this morning. She was getting dressed. Maybe he'd make nice and take her out to dinner someplace. If she wanted to dance there were plenty of young Cuban-Americans who would be most happy to dance with her. Just as long as she was there when he needed her to drive home.

He walked into his room and changed into a lightweight suit and silk shirt and tie. A year ago he'd have turned pale if you told him he'd willingly wear a suit. Times sure had changed. He'd changed. _'I wonder if Sarah and Bryce are still in Europe or if this problem that prompted the 'all home' signal overruled their deep cover assignment?'_

He prompted a flash on the mercenary commander. He was here. Where were his troops? I wonder if Art can get a fly-by on those freighters. How many crewmen were required and how many would be on deck. It was hot, especially in the holds of the ships… more to think about.

* * *

**Federal Intelligence Facility  
Miami, FL**

The drive to Miami took longer than planned. The Miami field office had a private security area set aside for Agent Talley. Chuck was surprised at his reception. It seemed as if everyone wanted a look at him. He had no idea why.

The update left him with a killer headache. Graham had warned Carina this might happen and had also given her a list of things to be on the alert for such as blood from the eyes, ears or nose, balance problems and severe and sudden nausea. He'd lucked out and just had the headache. He didn't feel like going out and that pissed Carina off.

"You never want to do anything anymore. Just sit on your precious veranda and watch the surf or you go to that fucking green house and play with your fucking orchids. Well, I ran into a couple friends from the DEA and we're going out to dinner and dancing. You just stay here until I get back or find your own way back to Lantana, I don't care anymore." She had forgotten Graham's instructions and abandoned her partner.

He was unarmed, unescorted, without transportation and he had a massive headache. He checked with the CIA duty officer and got a room with a cot. He was so tired and his nose had begun bleeding although it was just the occasional drop. The doctor supervising the download said the headache would pass but so far it hadn't. He wasn't worried, just annoyed.

He hung up his suit, stripped to his boxers and slipped between the sheets. He was asleep in seconds.

Bryce Larkin had been finalizing some reports when he realized the time and closed his files, turned them back to the Security Officer and went to sign out and head for the hotel. This was his free night and he was going to enjoy himself. His partner was still plugging away at her paperwork and told him she'd get dinner at the hotel.

He was signing out on the visitor's log when he noticed an entry for C. Talley and C. Talley with just one C. Talley signed out. Which one is still here? Chuck or Carina? He'd better tell his partner. She said she wanted to avoid a face-to-face meeting with Carina until all the facts were known to Bar…Talley.

He found her in the office set aside for them, still plugging away. Her eyes must be bothering her again for she'd put on those little half-lens 'reading glasses' she said she never wore. Eyestrain and paperwork went together. Still, they made her look…studious and serious.

"Hey, partner, '' signed out but 'C. Talley' is still here. Just thought you might like to know all things considered."

Her head jerked up and her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose to perch near the tip. She pushed them up with a fingertip. "Thanks. I'll be done here in another 20 minutes or so. I'll check the log-ins and avoid any confrontations with…her."

Bryce left it alone. Saying anything about Chuck at this point would only lead to the imposition of what he'd come to call 'The Great Silence' that could last for minutes or days. They had to work together so they usually avoided each other's hot buttons.

He couldn't leave well enough alone. "Sarah, what if it's Chuck and not Carina? Don't you want to see him, talk to him?" _'Maybe screw his ears off and finally be happy?'_

Her eyes narrowed and he just raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender and left.

She sighed. What if it is Chuck and not the bitch? Would he even acknowledge her? It had been a while, no, more than a while, since his last call. She'd finish her work and when she was signing out if 'C. Talley' was here, she'd find out which one and then decide what to do.

* * *

**EL Pollo Restaurant  
Miami FL**

Carina Hansen was enjoying herself. Whether it was the flirtatious attention paid her by an agent she only knew by sight or just being out and about, the reason didn't matter. When her cell buzzed she ignored it. It was probably 'him' wanting a ride or something. Screw him. It was her night out.

**Langley, VA  
CIA Headquarters**

Arthur Graham wanted an update on the intersect's refresher. He needed to know if there were any problems and if they were going to remain in Miami. He was flying down and wanted to know where they could meet. Neither Hansen nor Talley were answering their phones. This pissed him off to the max. Rule #1: answer the phone unless on a mission-critical leg of an operation. Since there was no mission, Rule #1 had been broken. He placed a call to the duty officer in the CIA section of the Miami facility to locate either of the Talleys and have them contact him immediately. He was told that the 'female agent had left but that Charles Talley was still in the facility and he would locate him immediately.'

He buzzed his aide and told him to get the jet ready, they were leaving immediately for Miami.

**Federal Intelligence Facility  
Miami, FL**

Chuck's phone may have rung but he wouldn't have heard it. Sometime between lying down and the phone call he'd slipped from sleep into a very light unconscious state. His blood pressure was sky-high and it was his body's way on slowing things down. At the first signs of nasal discharge he should have been examined and medicated. Studies had shown that this transient condition from updates was easily remedied by a simple pill or shot followed by a few hours of sleep. But no one knew about it.

**El Pollo Restaurant  
Miami FL**

Carina was drunk and trying to get laid. If she'd been half the agent she was normally she would have noticed the attention she'd garnered from a table of gentlemen who had seen her before, in Boca Raton, at a party. Considering the company she was keeping, the DEA agents had been anything but discreet regarding their loud and raucous talk; it was obvious she was also an agent, or a groupie. Either way it was a bad situation soon to get worse. If she was half the agent she normally was, she wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Their actions violated protocols and rules and just plain common sense.

* * *

**Federal Intelligence Facility  
Miami, FL**

Sarah Walker had finally finished the mountain of paper work relating to expense accounts, travel and mission reports and had removed her 'unnecessary' reading glasses and put them in her purse. She was delaying her departure. She really wanted to see Chuck, if only from a distance, and wanted to avoid Carina Hansen at all costs. She didn't know if Chuck knew the entire story behind the events at Sand Springs and she didn't want to be the one to tell him. It was the Director's responsibility and obligation; he had destroyed her credibility with Chuck and he was the only one who had the credibility to restore it.

Desire won out over common sense and she went in search of the duty officer to try and locate Chuck Talley. She heard a page for him a few minutes earlier and then another page, this one seemed a bit more urgent.

She found the duty officer and asked about Agent Charles Talley and was told he'd booked into one of the overnights on the 4th floor but wasn't responding to his pages. She told him they were old friends and she'd find him and have him contact the duty officer.

She took the elevator to the 4th floor and found the room assigned to Chuck. She hesitated and then knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked again and waited then knocked and said loudly "Chuck, it's Sarah, Sarah Walker. Please open the door. The duty officer has to speak with you. Chuck?"

She walked over to a wall phone and punched the duty officer's button and told him that the door was locked and that he wasn't responding and asked him to bring the passkey. She knew Chuck was a light sleeper, probably very light given his current duties.

Five minutes later his room was awash with the facility's emergency medical team and once again Sarah Walker's attempts to talk with him were thwarted. The doctor assured her the medication injected into the standard IV would reduce his BP in just a few minutes and he'd wake up to standard stimuli such as noise or shaking.

She sat down at the desk unit and waited. And looked at him for the first time since seeing him lying on his side, his face in a small pool of blood. The duty officer had said "oh, shit" and broadcast a page for a medical emergency and the team had responded more quickly that Sarah would have anticipated. Good organization and leadership were apparent in the Miami facility.

She looked at him very carefully. He looked a few years older, more mature, and there were new lines in his face that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him. Worry lines and crows feet. His hair was cut shorter than she liked it; those curls were gone. He looked to have added weight and muscle mass but he would still be considered 'lanky' although his muscles were more clearly defined. And he had a tan that she could only envy.

She pulled her chair over beside the bed and held his hand. It had been so long since she'd shared his touch and it felt like they'd never been apart.

His palm and fingers had developed recognizable calluses; one on his finger where the trigger of his M1911 had been pulled countless times (she hoped only in practice), one at the base of his thumb where the grip edge cut into his hand (she'd planned on new grips for him) and several unidentifiable ones on the insides of his thumb joints.

At some point during her examination he'd transitioned from unconsciousness to sleep and then to being awake. His headache was gone and felt someone holding his hand, turning it and running fingers over his calluses and along the pads of his fingers and palm. He knew that inspection routine just like he knew the scent of her shampoo even this late in the day. Vanilla. Sarah. And he flashed. A few minutes passed while he ruminated over the updated information in her file and Carina's. He also wondered why _he_ didn't have a file.

"I'm not going to open my eyes and discover that you're not who I think you are but rather a 300 pound Jamaican nurse who has found my hand a fascinating thing to examine." She started to pull away but he held her hand fast.

"Hello, Sarah Walker. Your Uncle sure did a number on us, didn't he? Still don't like me calling him the Pimp?"

She tried to stifle the first sob and he opened up his eyes and saw her for the first time in more than 6 months. "I asked you not to cry anymore, Sarah, remember? Please don't cry. Not for me, anyway, for us, maybe, but not for me."

"Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry for all of this." She got up and went over and locked the door to the room. She walked back to the bed, tears still creeping down her cheeks but she was smiling. "Move over a bit. I need some serious face time and I need to talk and you need to listen without interrupting me, OK? Can you not talk at all, not one word, until I'm done?"

He nodded, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye but guilt in his heart. Despite all the evidence, despite Carina's dramatic rescue and despite his own feelings, he'd never really believed another human being could have been so inhuman as it appeared she'd been that day. And now he was going to hear her story. And he would have to tell her about his betrayal.

"That morning in Sand Springs I made a couple of mistakes and at least one huge error in judgment. I shouldn't have just walked you to the tarmac and then left you. It was a huge error and probably contributed more to our being apart these months than anything else. I've relived that moment a thousand times and I still don't know what possessed me to treat you like a _thing_."

"I should have walked with you to the agent but honestly I was so close to breaking down in tears at your leaving me even if it was just for two damned days and I didn't want to lose face in front of another agent. So it was pride, mostly, that caused this. And it was also my concern that if I hugged and kissed you goodbye it would demean you in the eyes of the other agent. I didn't want him thinking you were "handled" by means of sex. It's the final resort and the other agents would have considered you a mark, not a valuable asset. So, again, pride."

"Graham called and told me your were on your way to Langley when he was overruled and the plane diverted to Atlanta. I guess concocting the plan crash was the final brick in the fortress he'd built around you and Carina. I just fell apart, Chuck. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I looked up Ellie and just let go with her. Chuck, she saved me. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't had her as my lifeline. And then she sent me the email that you were off the grid in Mexico and I was ecstatic."

"And then you started calling me. "_Sarah, please don't cry anymore._" And you hung up. I wasn't even certain I'd heard what was said. But I stopped crying then, well, mostly."

"And then you caught up with me in Salerno. "_And be careful, Sarah."_ And I was careful and we avoided a nasty ambush."

"But then pride came calling again. Ellie emailed me that you were fine but your partner had been hurt. Carina. Oh, Chuck, that almost ended me. Carina! Oh, how I hate her. She took you from me and planted lies and half-truths and kept you from all the truth. I hated her but mostly I began to hate you. How could you just have forgotten me? How could you believe her over me?"

"I admit I was in an emotional place for a while. Bryce was pushing to renew our old arrangement and now you were operating with a partner – Carina. Then you called and I was an absolute bitch to you, accusing you without the facts, not knowing your side of things. I asked you if you were enjoying your new partner. I meant in bed. I meant it to hurt you and I did. All you said was '_'One time, in Mexico. Before I figured things out.' _And you hung up."

"And you never called back and I thought I'd never hear from you or see you again. I'd driven you away. There would be no second chances for us and it was my pride that got us there. I knew you were in Florida because I traced the calls but I was on the other side of the world, just like we were afraid Art would do."

"I'd given up hope but then we were tasked to return here and back up some high-profile team that was making such waves in the intel community. It was in Florida, you were in Florida. And here we are. And then I was your comms link, Chuck. I heard everything. I was so proud of your performance, how well you handled things, the level of professionalism. Even Bryce was impressed and then Carina started her…" He pressed his palm against her lips. "Shhh."

He sat up and looked disapprovingly at the IV. He hated needles. He looked at it carefully and noted the hanging solution bag was nearly empty so he sat up and tore the tape from the back of his hand and withdrew the needle. Not being fastidious, he wiped the blood off his hand with the sheet. It was someone else's problem. He washed his face and hands in the en suite and dried them. No blood. Good.

He walked over to where his clothes were hung and began to dress.

"Chuck I…"

"Shhh." She was quiet and curious. Was he afraid of bugs? Well, they were in the regional capital of Buggers, Anonymous.

He finished dressing; including his silk tie that Carina had bought him because she "wanted to hang something around his neck, like a collar". Sarah admired this new Chuck. He looked…elegant and very self-assured. And she knew he was anything but right this minute.

He looked over the room once to make sure he'd forgotten nothing and then opened the door and followed her through into the hallway. He went to the elevator and when the car came they entered and descended to the ground floor where both he and Sarah signed out.

He walked out the front door and stopped and turned to her. "Now you may speak. And I will answer. It is called a dialogue, not an 'I am so sorry I shafted you' monologue. He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. This was his tell for extreme nervousness on a personal not professional level.

"Do you have a car? Carina drove the XKE and I hate driving it. I'm not all that coordinated where clutch, brake and gas pedal manipulation are concerned."

She laughed and put her arm through his. "Yep, an automatic. You want to drive? It's a Chevy pool car." "Yeah. It's my turn to talk. And then we'll have dinner and I'll show you where you and Bryce will be staying. That is, if you don't mind? It has 5 bedrooms and I mostly sleep out on a chaise lounge on the beachfront. Habit and protection, although I'm not sure 'protection' is the right word. Defense?"

**El Pollo Restaurant  
Miami, FL**

Of all the places in Miami that Bryce Larkin could have picked for dinner, he had to pick the one where Carina Hansen was totally wasted and behaving in a manner that was sure to end up with her being posted to the weather intelligence operations in Tierra del Fuego on the southern most tip of Lower, Lower, Lowest Patagonia.

'Shit. Chuck's partner. I wonder if he's here? No, he would never allow her to get this shit-faced. Well, agency loyalty rule #2: do not abandon a shit-faced colleague to public humiliation.'

He walked over to her table and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Bryce. Carina and I are partners. I'll take her off your hands. She'll be fired if any of the big boys see her like this in public. Please forget you saw me here. Bye."

He helped her up and walked her to the door and hailed a cab. He gave his hotel address and hoped he was doing the right thing. He knew he was doing what was right for a fellow agent, just not sure for _this _fellow agent. If Walker saw her, she'd be dead several times before she hit the floor.

She might be dead several times over anyway. Bryce failed to notice the attention his shit-faced charge had attracted. The leader of the Yemeni mercenaries had called and summoned several of his people to take up watch at the restaurant entrance and follow the honey-brown drunk and her partner and report on all their movements for the next 36 hours, the critical period in their operation against the infidels.

* * *

**Two Georges  
Boynton Beach, FL**

He hadn't talked much at all in the car. Sarah could tell he was nervous and while she understood his hesitation she couldn't understand his 'fear' of talking to her.

Finally, he said, not taking his eyes off the road, "I can't talk and drive. I thought I could but I can't. So just enjoy the scenery of idiots rushing home and we'll talk, excuse me, I'll talk, over dinner. It's outside and the wait staff are personal friends and no one pays attention to anyone else. The water traffic and the people but mostly the sea birds and pelicans combat listening devices."

Twenty minutes later they'd turned off I95 into Boynton Beach and a few minutes later Chuck parked beside a public wharf and party boat dock and led her across a narrow plank from boat to boat. When she stepped down onto firm ground she realized she was in the back of a service bar at an open-air restaurant and bar. The bar was lined with locals almost all of whom had a greeting or catcall for Chuck or Mr. Talley.

The owner of the Two Georges hailed him from across the restaurant, pointed to the open-air deck and then to a corner table. Chuck nodded and led her through the bar to the table.

"Hey, Mr. Talley, finally escape the old ball and chain? A step up if I say so. I'll bring menus." Chuck ordered drinks and an appetizer and when they were served he started talking. Apparently he spoke better when he was seated and 'hands-free'. A sure sign he was nervous.

"OK, I was an ass with Carina. I admit it. She swooped down and played on every fear, weakness and vulnerability I had and believe me after Sand Springs, I had a lot. Carina told me you'd set me up and she'd played along knowing it was a transfer to a maximum-security facility and that the NSC had overridden Graham and diverted the destination. The pickup was low-keyed to alleviate any fears I might have but the transfer agent mentioned 'it was a long flight to Atlanta' and before I could turn and run after you Carina drove up, slipped me a weapon and sapped the agent. We took off and she said we were going off the grid."

"Sarah, from my perspective you'd betrayed me. Point #1: you 'prepped' me with the dream about me going underground. Carina said you were a master at it. Point #2: you kept insisting it was only for 2 days and that I could see Ellie. Right up until I got out of your car. Final point and yes, you've explained it now, but this was then. Point #3: You left me without any comment, a hug or a kiss or a 'have fun'. You took off like your ass was on fire, Sarah. So add them all together, add Carina 'throwing everything away for me' and Shazaam! Bartowski believes his handler/girlfriend/lover has betrayed him."

"Shhh, Sarah, no interruptions, please. This is very difficult for me. I'm being perfectly honest and trying to run everything through the 'it's all in the past' filter. So bear with me, please."

"Until that one time in Mexico when I was at the lowest point in my life and I just had to accept that the woman I'd planned on spending the rest of my life with had, in fact, accomplished another mission and moved on, I had not had sex with Carina. Heavy makeout sessions, sure. I'm a guy, remember? But no actual sex. Until that one time and I realized it was sex with Carina, good sex, but just sex. Not making love with your other half like we did. There was no sense of completion, no spiritual satisfaction. Hokey, I know, but I guess not having a huge sample of partners limits my comparisons."

He could see tears in her eyes and her chin was starting to tremble and her one hand had begun a rapid trembling. "Chuck, I…" "Shhh, I'm not done. Almost but not quite so bear with me. You promised." She nodded' she'd have her turn.

"So the next morning I went back to the market and picked up some shirts but also found a WiFi connection and rented some time on-line. I accessed my email and found a huge inbox but only 7 were from Ellie. The first was her telling me about your visit. The second and third were more of the same. It was the 5th and 6th when she got around to describing your desolation, I guess would be the word, and her fear that you were going to make yourself sick that I agreed to have her send you that brief one-liner."

"When I got back I learned that Carina had been in contact with Graham all the time and that this time he was offering a 'come home free, all is forgiven' message. Considering what I'd learned from Ellie, I began connecting the dots and the picture was disgusting."

"I had betrayed you. You had been framed, Graham had lied to you and me but mostly I just fell victim to my own neediness and rampant insecurities. So, no excuses. It was all my fault, as usual. And that was the last time I touched Carina Hansen. We would be partners but not lovers, not even fuck-buddies. She had deceived me and didn't know I knew it. I set out to make her miserable and I think I've done a fairly good job of it, too."

The arrival of their food brought his narrative to a temporary halt.

"Sarah, there's more. I've made assumptions about you and I and I've made some commitments you may not wish to be party to. I acted in good faith with the best of intentions."

Her eyes widened and her 'suspicion' light was blinking rapidly.

"Beckman may have been a General but she was no businesswoman. I hold the patent and intellectual property rights for the civilian version of the "Bartowski Process".

"When I was in Mexico I formed a company chartered in Luxembourg and incorporated in Delaware for tax purposes. That means you own half of CharahCorp. It also means your stake in the company is worth around $1.9 million as of the end of last month according to Grimes' report. You have immediate access to about half of that and you'll have it as soon as you sign some paperwork back at the house."

"The only problem is that I set you up as Sarah Walker, Treasurer, on the filings so if we do an IPO I don't know if that will stand SEC scrutiny but you can hash that out with Graham and your lawyers."

"You own half the house in Lantana, since I put your name on the deed also. There's no mortgage so you could always force a sale here in Florida and get the cash. I used most of the ready cash from the licensing sales to purchase the house but the corporation has no overhead, one office, one staff member, Morgan, and his salary and benefits, and sales are running about twice what I figured. If you can hold off liquidating your interest in CharahCorp for a year it will be worth about $7.2 million or so."

"I'm fully aware of everything about you in the CIA files and I don't care; the refresher download rewrote the entire initial download so all those missing items aren't missing anymore. I met and fell in love with the Sarah Walker who pulled my bony ass out of the surf that night, who danced the Tango with me in San Francisco and is sitting right here with me now."

"If you can accept what I've done, accept my apology and give me your forgiveness, your life will be interesting and the CIA gets it's premiere team back less the munchkin, and that's about all I can promise you except for my loyalty, devotion, love and insufferably bad attitude, neediness and insecurity until I die."

"So, think about it. Here are the keys to the pool car. I'm going to use the facilities and when I get back if you're still here and want to hear more, well, I'll be the happiest man in the world and if not, then I'll leave a letter for you in Miami with the deed and title to the house and instructions on liquidating your shares in CharahCorp through our lawyers in Delaware."

* * *

She watched him thread his way through the Happy Hour crowd to the men's room. He'd set this up in Mexico? When he thought I'd betrayed him? Was that an act of faith or defiance? And the name of his company, CharahCorp. That spoke volumes in and of itself.

He totally opened himself up tonight, something he's done once before with such honesty and sincerity and he's never asked about or mentioned Bryce and I being 'together' all these months. He bought the house in our names _after _I'd harpooned him with my bitchy comments about Carina.

Her phone rang and she saw it was Bryce. He probably wanted to know where she was.

"Walker, secure."

"Larkin, secure. I've got Chuck's partner in my bed, Sarah." He recounted the evening and wanted to call and warn her that she was there so that if she 'dropped by' she wouldn't come armed. He laughed. He told her to find Chuck and force a confrontation with him and settle his hash once and for all then take him to her bed and be happy again.

"Sarah, she was with a bunch of her old DEA buddies and was being a disgusting and totally wasted slut. She was telling anyone and everyone that he was asexual, queer, you name it. Said that all that data dumped into his mind by the Agency must have unhinged him."

" She's passed out now but I have half a mind to throw her in the shower, sober her up and throw her ass out in the street. If she's his 'partner' I wouldn't give odds on him lasting through the end of the year. She'll get him killed or worse. So, you going to make up and be a human being again?"

"I don't know, Bryce. I need time to process…"

"Bullshit, Sarah. Either you love him and want him back or you don't. Two choices. Flip a coin then, but decide. It's not fair to either of you to leave this unresolved. He's just a guy, Sarah, not a spy. He won't measure up to your standards if you don't keep that in mind."

She laughed. She had high standards and he'd already surpassed them. And after tonight she'd have to set the bar higher.

"I have to go. Keep Carina happy. I think she's going to be your new partner. Bryce, I'll talk to you in the morning. If you're able…" She couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice. Bryce Larkin and Carina. They were perfect for each other: amoral, perpetually horny and totally self-centered and self-absorbed. Perfect.

Chuck washed his hands for the fourth time. No sense putting it off any longer. Like pulling tape off a wound. 1…2…Pull…3.

He left the men's room and walked past the bar, nodding to people he knew, and returned to the table. She was on the phone and he caught just the last few words as a large yacht sounded its horn in response to waves from bar patrons.

"I have to go…" The damned horn. "Bryce, I'll talk to you in…" The rest was lost to the horn.

He sat down and looked at his cold dinner. "If you're going, please go now. You were on the phone and that probably delayed your exit. I'll get a ride back or catch a cab. It was nice seeing you again, Sarah Walker. I'll have those papers delivered to the facility as soon as the lawyers can get them ready."

He turned in his chair and made clicking noises towards a large brown pelican with a broken beak and basket. He handed the bird a large piece of fish from his plate. "Greedy bastard. I should have let Nature take her course with you." He turned and picked up his plate and starting feeding the pelican.

It was pretty obvious the bird and Chuck were on very friendly terms because he hopped down onto the rail from the piling about a foot from the table. He shot Sarah a wary eye then returned to being hand-fed by man. He made sounds of appreciation and gulped down the food.

"I want to see our house, Chuck, when you're done feeding your friend your dinner. Does it have a name?"

"Murphy, after Murphy's Law. I found him floating in the ocean when I was doing my morning endurance training. He'd tangled with something, I don't know what, and his bill was broken and his basket was split down the side. He couldn't feed himself."

"I took him to the vet and got him all fixed up and then brought him down here. People feed him and in a few months maybe he'll be able to feed himself again. Me and Murph, we have a lot in common." He ran his fingers through his hair and the bird hopped down onto the table and proceeded to clean the rest off his plate. The restaurant owner came over with the check.

"Chuck, I've asked you twenty times not to encourage that frikkin' pelican to clean your plate. You're the only one he'll let touch him but the Health Department would shit if they knew what he did."

"Screw you, Carl. He's brought you a lot more business since that article. People come to see him, and feel better about themselves. He's getting too fat to fly, so your business must really be good, Carl." He ran a finger down the bird's head to his wing and the bird spread it's wings for a good scratch.

"Take a hike, Murph. I think the lady wants to leave. I'll see you later. At least try to swim, you fat-assed pelican. Winter's almost over and the snowbirds will fly north and you'll be on your own again."

The pelican pulled its basket against its breast and gave Chuck a look of total disdain. It hopped over to Sarah, hoping for a morsel or a scratch. She warily gave it some of her grouper and was delighted with its gentle touch. She grinned at Chuck. "This is so cool, Chuck. You find a bird, save it and it eats your dinner. How cool is that? I'm ready to see our house now, surfer boy, while it's still daylight."

* * *

**Charah House  
Lantana, FL**

Chuck drove up to the house from the 1A in order to give Sarah a sense of the size and position of the house and it's relative worth compared to its neighbors. He told her one reason the house had been so 'inexpensive' was that it had been partially damaged during a recent hurricane and the owner had abandoned it and the bank had repaired it and put it in foreclosure.

He parked on the side of the drive and walked her up to the main entrance. He keyed in his security code to unlock the door. Sarah watched as he announced each number and almost teared up when she realized it was her date of birth and his date of birth. She squeezed his hand when she noted the significance. DDDD/MMMM/YYYY. He had bought this beautiful house through the corporation, a combination of their names, the codes were all combinations of some facet of their existence, combined. Together.

She was amazed at the interior. Chuck told her he'd made a decorator very happy with his instructions: make it suitable for a well-traveled young woman to be comfortable in.

When the 'nickel tour' was completed, except for Carina's bedroom, the two 'spare' bedrooms and a study and a solarium on the 2nd floor, Chuck pulled a 6 pack of beer from the refrigerator and led her out to the veranda.

"This is my 'bedroom', Sarah. I rarely sleep in the house except in really bad or cold weather. I love it here on the beach. I'm content here."

"And you want Bryce and I to move in here, right?"

"If you're willing. Carina assumed ownership of the master suite but she can be persuaded to move to one of the other bedrooms. There are 4 free bedrooms, two of which are on the second story, and each is set up for couples if…" He never finished the sentence. He couldn't think at the moment, he couldn't breath and little black snakes were creeping in from the edges of his sight and he knew she hadn't understood what he was saying and now it was… all gray, then all black.

The spin kick caught an unprepared and unaware Chuck directly where her instructor told her to strike for maximum effect. She hadn't planned it, she hadn't anticipated his comment and she hadn't held back on the kick. It's what happened when a spy is taken by surprise and afraid. An immediate and disruptive action to give the spy time to assess the situation and take action, whether it was a continued assault or a rapid departure.

_Damn him and his insecurities. How dare he assume I am with Bryce. Couldn't he get it through his damned thick skull that I only want to be with him? That nothing had changed as far as I'm concerned. That Bryce and I are professional partners, not bedmates? I ought to let him lie there and leave. Damn him. Damn Arthur Graham and the CIA. _

It took a full minute before he was aware enough to realize that he was flat on a lounger. And that his face was wet and that wet hands were frantically patting it.

"Chuck! Chuck! I'm so sorry. I was just, I- I – I reacted without thinking. I'm sorry. Can you sit up? Can you stand? Oh, Chuck, I'm sorry."

"Sarah, you didn't let me finish… my sentence. Jesus…I think … oh, shit, this just isn't going to work, is it? I give up, Sarah. I may be loaded with insecurities and need constant reassurances and all that shrink B.S., but I tried, I really tried. I guess you don't want what I want. But Sarah, you need to work on verbalizing rather than terrorizing."

"You could just have said '_no, Chuck, I don't want to share a home with you_' and I'd have understood, really, I would have. A lot has happened to both of us. A lot of time has passed, maybe too much.

"Chuck Bartowski, you didn't ask me to move in with you, you asked me and Bryce to move in here. I'm not with Bryce that way. All your insecurities are getting old. I…"

"Hey, Bartowski's dead, the lucky bastard. And I know you and Bryce aren't 'bed buddies' but he's your partner and shouldn't be too far away. All I wanted was for you to be here with me and if it meant the RatBastard had to come along, so be it. That's why I said Carina could move out and probably in with Bryce. But I never got that far, did I? And you told me in Burbank you didn't want to get married so this was the best I could do."

"But nothing's ever good enough, is it? You have to look really hard to find something wrong, Sarah. Between the two of us, have you ever met a more dysfunctional couple? If what I said in the restaurant and what this house and the company mean didn't get through that think CIA skull of yours, I'll be blunt."

"I'm going to change clothes. Do what you want. You always do, Sarah. Just be damned sure what you do is what you really want because this was a _last time offer_. I made my apologies and I admitted all my thousands of failures and took all the blame. Everything that ever went wrong was my fault and I admitted it."

"The ball is in your court. It's not marriage, Agent Walker, nothing binding, _nothing you can't wriggle out of if it gets too constricting_. No, it's just an offer of a lifetime of companionship from the man that loves you beyond anything you can imagine and it requires just an acceptance or declination. One word. Yes or No."

He walked into the house and went into his bedroom. He felt relieved. He'd said everything from the heart. It was all up to her. Either way the pain would be over soon.

He stripped and put on his swimsuit and went out onto the veranda at the far end. Walker was on the phone again. He went over to a cabana and pulled out his wet suit and grabbed an east coast board. The surf looked inviting even if the waves were smaller than California's. The sun was setting on another wasted day in his life.

* * *

He trotted down to beach and paddled out past the first row of breakers and then further out still. This was where the mammoths lay hidden. You could catch one, a huge swell 15-20 feet high that would never build to a crest but still provide speed and momentum to ride the smaller breakers at a decent speed. No rolling combers in this weather. This was hurricane season and the storms would come and things would be better.

Sarah had called Bryce to tell him she'd be spending the night and to check out and be ready to move when she got there the next day. She was moving in with her boyfriend and the CIA could just kiss her ass. She would ask Graham for a reassignment as Chuck's partner and if he didn't like it, well, she'd deal with it then. Together they could do pretty much anything.

She watched Chuck riding the smaller Atlantic waves remembering how he looked that night in Malibu with the incredible waves ripping his back to shreds and him rising from the sea and cursing them for not killing him. So much had changed. She had changed.

Evil Sarah came calling. She stripped off all her clothes, every stitch and walked shamelessly over to the veranda's edge. Chuck was removing his wet suit and standing under the shower washing the salt from his suit and skin. He looked up and didn't even blink.

"Yes."

He smiled a shy smile and turned and took off his bathing suit and rinsed it out in the shower. She could see the angry scar, white against his tan, and remembered that night. He walked up the steps to where she was standing and took her hand and led her down the steps into the swimming pool.

"I have to swim laps. Keep me company or just hang out. I'll only be 15 minutes. Have another beer or open a bottle of wine in the cooler beside the grill. I'm sure you can amuse your self for 15 minutes, Sarah Walker."

He was teasing her. And she liked it. Playful Chuck was so much more fun than brooding and needy Chuck. But tonight's Chuck had surprised her. Firm, adamant, unflinching from unpleasant truths and most of all, resolved to end the dance once and for all.

He had changed so much and she knew part of it was due to Carina. She'd challenged him and he'd failed and he'd learned and matured and become…a predator. She'd been his prey this evening. Every step had been choreographed, a crescendo of commitment. How could she not say 'yes'?

Chuck had planned all of this without knowing if she would ever come back. She was on assignment with her former partner and, face it, booty caller, and he knew it. He made contact in the only manner available and secure. He built a company while in Mexico and in doubt about her, he had bought a house and planned it around the two of them being together without guarantees. How could she say 'no'?

Chuck was done with his laps and swam over to where she was still sitting on the steps. "You know, with your fair complexion, you're not going to be able to worship the sun like Carina does. You won't look good red. So I think you should limit your naked poolside frolicking to evening hours, don't you?"

"Like now?"

"No, I'm done with the pool until tomorrow morning's swim although if the weather is nice I just might do my mile in the ocean."

"Chuck, aren't you even going to kiss me? I've been naked almost half an hour and all you've done is swim and talk. Is there something wrong?"

"Nope. I was getting around to it. I just had to finish my routine before carrying you off to my lair and ravishing you countless times before the sun rises. Why? Impatient or worried?"

"Impatient. Are you through? Please say 'yes'."

"Yes."

"Shower. You smell like swimming pool."

"Shower it is. I'll see you in 20 minutes. Ummm, Sarah, this is mosquito time and it's dusk and I'm sure the mosquitoes agree with me that you're probably quite tasty but you need to put something on and get into the house. They are voracious at dusk."

"I don't have anything except a business suit, Chuck. How about a robe? Got one I can borrow?"

"Sure. Follow me. Bring the beer. And don't drink any of mine, please, you backwash something fierce."

Chuck found one of the silk robes he'd bought when he decided to lay in a stock of Sarah-sized clothes.

"Who do all those clothes belong to, Chuck? I won't wear the bitch's clothes."

"Relax, that closet there is yours. Find something you like. I'm hitting the shower."

Few things rendered Sarah Walker, the woman, speechless. The extent and taste of the clothing in the walk-in closet was one of them. The colors were vibrant and while not all were to her taste, almost all of them were. She could live out of this closet for weeks or months and not have to worry about wearing the same thing twice. All this done in anticipation of 'Yes'.

Curious, she tried to open the smaller closet at the rear of the walk-in but it was locked with a keypad. Ever so curious now, she entered the security code that Chuck had used for the main entrance. The status light remained red. She then entered her date of birth and it changed to green followed by an audible click. She opened the very heavy door of a gun safe with a variety of edged weapons, a set of throwing knives like she'd worn in San Francisco and two of her favorite model of handgun. In anticipation of 'yes'.

She closed the door and wandered through the suite into the bath area. Thee were double sinks along each wall. She knew Chuck's from the razor, shaving cream and brush and comb. She guessed the other was for a lady guest. Carina's? She opened the mirrored cabinet and found every cosmetic and shampoo/conditioner she used. In anticipation of 'yes'.

Smiling, she shrugged off her robe and joined him in the shower. She slipped between Chuck and the stream of water and pulled his head down and kissed him softly and with a great sigh. Ending the kiss she put her head on his chest and let the water course over them. She was finally where she belonged. She had no doubts, no reservations, or conflicts. He'd taken an incredible leap of faith and done all this in anticipation of 'yes'.

"Was it a gamble, Chuck, all this? Or were you so sure that I'd say 'yes'?"

"I was fairly certain you'd come, if only to satisfy your curiosity but I was hoping you'd stay out of desire and love, not because of duty or some weird sense of obligation. So, yes, all this was in anticipation of a 'yes' but also as a sign of faith in us, Sarah, Chuck and Sarah, not agent/handler and asset."

"And if I hadn't even shown enough interest to have come?"

"Then in about 6 months you'd have received a rather large check in the mail from some lawyers you'd never heard of in Luxembourg informing you that your shares in a confidential business venture had been liquidated and the proceeds were enclosed and that further inquiries regarding the business or its principals would not be entertained due to confidentiality agreements. End of story."

"So, that would have been the end of us? You would just cut off all contact and do what, Chuck?"

"Whatever I damned well pleased within the constraints of my 'contractual obligation' to the intelligence community. I'd set up something for Ellie and Morgan Grimes and the rest I'd blow on anything that appealed to me. I'd die broke but not bored. Why? Second thoughts?"

"No. Just curious. You did all this on blind faith and hope. You have come a long way, Chuck, since Lynn's passing. I never would have believed it was possible for someone to grow that quickly into the man I see. And I love you more now than I did then, if that's possible." She kissed the scar she'd given him then ran her finger down it. So small and yet so life-changing.

"Would you do me just one favor, Chuck? Would you wash my hair like you did in Burbank? I missed that almost as much as I missed you. It's my secret weakness, my kryptonite, having a Chuck shampoo. Please?" She held up her shampoo and conditioner. "I see you stock the good stuff, Chuck. You know it's the tiny things here that confirm my decision. Like the entry code, the decorating, the wardrobe and the armory and you took the time to learn all about me and make good use of it. Now, bony assed surfer boy, please wash my hair like you used to do?"

"You remember what happened after that, don't you, Agent Walker? Are you prepared for such an occurrence?" He was teasing her and she was playing along.

"I was hoping for the entire experience, Chuck, all of it."

Twenty minutes later Chuck and Sarah were spooned together and Chuck was preparing for the second phase of her 'entire experience' when her iPhone chirped.

"Perfect timing, Sarah. Must be Fate's fickle finger again. I had the good sense to leave mine in my suit coat." She unpeeled herself from the object of her attention and answered the phone.

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. Where the hell is everyone down there? I'll be in Miami in 30 minutes. I've already had weather delays in D.C. or I'd have been there 4 hours ago. Have someone meet me at the airport. I want an all-hands meeting of field teams. Find the Talley's and have them there. And why aren't they answering their phones? No mission, no excuse."

"Charles Talley had a medical incident after his update and was probably unconscious when you called, Director. His partner left him to pursue…personal recreational activities. Larkin found her drunk on her ass with DEA agents spouting off about the intersect being sexually inadequate because off all the stuff crammed in his head. Larkin removed her from the public place and has her sleeping it off in his room."

"Director Graham, I am currently naked and about to get my ears screwed off by the love of my life who you told me was dead. He needs a partner he can rely on, sir, and I'm it. Understood?" She was deadly serious. Chuck was trying not to laugh and had buried his face in the pillow. He wished she'd put it on speaker.

"Well, I could say I don't know what you're talking about but that's not possible now, is it? Consider yourself the new Mrs. Talley. I'll handle the Larkin mess. I think he and Carina will make a wonderful team, don't you, Mrs. Talley? And will I get an invitation considering what a dastardly bastard you must think I am?"

"I also think the two teams should be housed together up here in Lantana, Director, so why don't you find you way up here and we'll all have dinner together and discuss the situation tomorrow evening? After your briefing and team meetings in Miami, of course." Evil Sarah had come out to play.

"Y'know baby girl, that sounds like a fine idea. I'll see you tomorrow morning around 10am and be sure and bring that new husband of yours. I'll take care of the divorce proceedings with the former Mrs. Talley and see to it she's properly chastised for her behavior. Sarah, do you really think the four of you can live together in a small house in a Podunk town and survive?"

"See you tomorrow, Uncle Art. And you'd better not screw with us again. Chuck says 'he's got the shovel', whatever that means."

"Tell him to hold his water. 'What is' was meant to be and he should leave well enough alone. I don't take kindly to threats from punk kids I knew back in the day. Remind him of that, Sarah, remind him. Now, I'll see you all in the morning. Be safe, baby girl."

She rolled over and tucked herself back into her Chuck. He could feel the tension in her and wondered about the half of the conversation he didn't get to hear. "Well, Sarah, what did the Pimp have to say that got you all upset? Share, Sarah. It's not nice to keep secrets from your 'husband'." He chuckled.

"You're getting a divorce in the morning. Try to act surprised, honey. Not remorseful, just surprised. We have a meeting at 10am in Miami and then we're entertaining a small party of 3 or 4 for dinner to 'celebrate _our_ nuptials'. He wants to see your 'small house' to ensure the four of us will be able to survive. I think we're going to be fine, partner, but Carina's going to have to undergo a radical attitude adjustment if she's going to live past tomorrow. And if I ever catch you sampling her wares again, Charles, you will lose an important member of your personal ensemble, understand? And it's something I have plans for, so don't wander."

"Sarah, I don't want to screw your ears off." He felt her stiffen. Was there something to these asexuality innuendoes of Carina's? She'd expected more in the shower than a shampoo. Maybe the entire emotional trauma had taken a toll.

"I like them right where they are. What I want to do is make love to you until you can't see straight, stand straight or sit comfortably without a silly grin on your face. I don't 'screw' the love of my life, Sarah Talley." To emphasize the point, he took her earlobe between lips and sucked on it then ran the tip of his tongue around the tip of her ear and down to the lobe again. He felt her nipples tighten against his chest and knew he was right. "You don't screw Sarah, you love her, slowly, efficiently and effectively".

His iPhone and her phone ringing and chirping almost simultaneously interrupted their first really intense kiss in months.

"Well, shit. I gotta get mine for sure, Sarah, it's probably Graham with his version of the call to you". It wasn't. It was Carina. Chuck put it on speakerphone.

"Talley, secure."

"Chuck, it's Carina. Baby, I'm so sorry. I went out with some friends from the DEA and had a little too much to drink and I slept it off in a friend's hotel room. Where are you? I'll be right there to pick you up and take you home. Have you eaten yet?"

"I'm in Lantana. I had a bit of a problem after the download but a friend, a good friend, a really close friend," he said, pulling Sarah onto his lap. "A really close friend drove me home. We had dinner at the Two Georges and I invited my friend to stay the night." Now it was Sarah's turn to stifle her laughter. He loved the way she jiggled when she giggled. She should never wear clothes.

"Oh, well, that's nice. What problem?"

"I almost died, Carina, and my partner wasn't there to help. Luckily my friend happened by and alerted Medical. A shot in an IV and I was fine but if they hadn't found me in 15 minutes I'd have been dead from a stroke. So, sweetie, listen up. I want a divorce. Effective immediately."

"The "Judge" is flying in as we speak and will take care of the arrangements. Oh, did I mention that you're in the bed of your new partner? Maybe you should try him out. Make sure he's not 'inadequate'. Well, I hate to divorce and run but my bride awaits. Oh, and all your shit _will _be removed from the master suite into one of the lesser bedrooms by the end of the day tomorrow, understand? I'll see you at dinner tomorrow night. Sarah and I are entertaining new partners and the Director. Do try and be here on time? And don't forget to get your crap out of her bedroom."

"B-b-but Chuck…_**SARAH **_as in Sarah Walker, _that_ Sarah?"

"But me no buts, Carina. You duplicitous whore. Enjoy your evening."

The last sound heard was her shriek of frustration… music to his ears.

"Well, I think that went rather well, don't you?"

Sarah just stared at him, torn between tears and laughter. "Oh, you do have a way with words when you're pissed. "My bride awaits?" and "Sarah and I are entertaining…" Oh, my God, that shriek of hers…"

"Yeah, I've been hearing it a lot lately. I like it. Sounds…satisfying."

She dissolved into giggles that made alluring parts of her jiggle. "You know what I said about not waltzing around naked, Sarah? Well, forget it. I like you naked…and who was on your phone, Agent Sarah Walker Talley? Hey, if we reversed it, it would be Agent Talley Walker… almost but not quite…" She silenced him with a brief kiss. "That was Bryce, calling to warn us of her impending phone call. I wonder if she's got him naked yet or if she just unzipped him and is having her way with him?" Evil Sarah was at it again.

"Oh, crap. I forgot all about something. Come on, there's something I need to take care of, two things actually. I can't believe I forgot about them. Must have had other things on my mind," he said, ogling her bouncing boobs. She noticed and swatted at his arm.

He led her outside through the kitchen and across the garden to a walled enclosure. He punched in a code and the gate clicked open to reveal a hot house. "Sarah, don't take this wrong but I enjoyed these mostly because of how much they pissed her off." He slid open the hot house door and pulled her in after him and hit the lights. She gasped in delight. There were row upon row of hanging planters each containing one perfect white orchid. "Oh, Chuck. Everything around here reminds you of me, doesn't it? You did all this to keep me close to you, didn't you?"

"Yes and no. Yes but no because I knew it would piss Carina off. And yes, as constant reminders of you and of what I'd done to you. I can't say 'I'm sorry' enough, I know, but I'll make it up to you somehow, Sarah." Now she did cry. Not sobs, just sniffles, like when you see a sad movie. "Hey, last thing I got to do before we go back to bed. Maybe the most important. Oh, come out here any time you like, it's for you."

He dragged her, half running, out of the hothouse and secured it and left the enclosure without bothering to lock it. He was aiming for a carriage house off to the side of the main house. It was probably used for storage and a garage. She was sure servants no longer occupied the top floors.

"Here, use your date of birth and open it up." He stepped back and let her enter her information on the keypad. A whirring sound could be heard from inside. She stepped back, unsure of this surprise. The garage doors slid back and revealed… "My Porsche! Oh, my God, Chuck, how did you do this?"

"Well, it's not _your_ Porsche. That's in a compound someplace or awaiting sale at a government auction. This is just as close to an identical match as I could find. The keys are in it and it gets turned over and driven exactly .8 miles weekly. Enjoy it, Sarah. And I can explain about the slipping clutch …"

"Chuck, if I ever considered not being with you, I wouldn't be here now. I love you. I'm in love with you and I want us to grow old together and thumb our noses at whatever life throws our way. We are one now, at last. And nothing better get between us, got that, Mr. Intersect? No risks, no dangerous 'gotta do this, Sarah' ops, at least not without me covering your ass, no more flirting with death. You have a reason to live now, Chuck, me, and if you risk you life, you'll be risking mine. Understand? Now, let's go finish what you started with all this 'for you, Sarah' stuff. It's wonderful but unnecessary. And no more guilt. We both screwed up and now it's behind us. Look ahead, baby, to the future."

Chuck walked through the living room and set the security levels to 'high' and also charged the passive defenses, something he'd never done before. If Carina made the mistake of coming back before 6am she'd find herself in a world of shit. The thought made him smile.

"OK, we're secure for the night, Sarah. Assume the position."

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He grinned and pointed to the large bed they'd left 20 minutes earlier.

He killed the lights and flicked on his iPod. "I haven't played this since, well, you know. And Revel's Bolero softly played from the many speakers in the room.

He began as he almost always did, kissing her softly and refusing to be drawn into a long wet kiss. Nibbling on her ear lobe he wondered why she didn't wear studs or earrings. He could understand the hazard of hoops on missions, but studs? Still, he appreciated the unadorned earlobe, and he loved the Goosebumps forming on her arms when he ran a line of kisses from her ear to the pulse point in the hollow of her throat. She had such an elegant and kissable neck. And it was sensitive given the change in her scent. Mmmm, Sarah Scent.

He opened the small refrigerator under the nightstand and took out an ice cube and run it down her neck following with open-mouthed kisses and her sighs told him she remembered the hot tub at 7a. He cupped the cube in his hand allowing it to chill his palm and melt a little. Chuck loved teasing her and he knew it was her personal preference to be aroused by intense foreplay. He popped the ice cube into his mouth and cupped her breast with his icy palm and felt the nipple harden and her shiver delighted him almost as much as her moan. He gently rubbed his palm over the other breast and the nipple hardened.

He swallowed the ice cube and took her nipple in his cold mouth and teased it with an equally cold tongue. Her hand found the back of his head and pulled him closer and wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning his name softly and repeatedly. Finally, she released her hold from the back of his head and said breathlessly, "I want you in me now, Chuck, it's been too long and I need you, now…please…"

Sarah Walker could not remember the last time sex had been that wonderful, well, yes, she could, the last time with Chuck. She was lingering between wakefulness and sleep, reveling in his touch. He wasn't moving, but she could _feel_ him, all of him, and it was almost as satisfying as his kisses.

And it wasn't sex. No. The man beside her had defined a new meaning to making love. It would never be sex with Chuck Bartowski. Talley, Talley. It was Talley now. She was now Mrs. Charles Talley. A small part of her whispered _"It could be that for real but you just slammed the door on that possibility. Remember, 'But I don't want to get married, Chuck.' Remember?"_

"Sarah, I remembered something you said back right after the op with Bruno. Sarah, you said you just wanted to be girl dating a guy and talking about getting married. You wanted normal, Sarah. One thing that stuck in my mind then. You wanted to worry about what to wear to please me not where to hide your gun and for me to make love with you all night."

"Sarah, my love, this is about as normal as I can provide for you right now. All you want is vanilla ice cream and the world makes you eat Rocky Road. Ok, lame analogy but it holds true. We can be normal, as Chuck and Sarah Talley, as normal as life will allow. We have money and opportunities few our age have, and we work for the CIA but we still have 'our time'.

"I meant what I said earlier. This is a lifetime commitment for me. So grow old with me, Sarah, and if you change your mind about marriage later on, we'll marry. But for now, just enjoy what normal we can have. Now, quit thinking so hard and roll over here and let me look at you. I'll never get tired of looking at you, not even when you're 80 and gray and wrinkled and…" She cut off further conversation with a deep, wet kiss that begged him to love her again and again.  


* * *

**Charah House  
Lantana, FL**

The alarm buzzed her awake at 6:30am and she stretched like a cat, totally satisfied with life for the first time in memory. She glanced over and saw the object of so many of her fantasies still asleep, a smile that bordered on a smirk on his face. For once in her life she had no worries, no fears, just an incredible future with an incredible man who wanted to grow old with her. Not the most romantic thing she'd ever had whispered in her ear after love making but certainly the most meaningful and heartfelt.

"Chuck, wake up, baby, it's morning and the CIA Director himself requires our presence in Miami and you're getting a divorce today so I want you looking your best. C'mon, almost-cover, almost real husband mine, wake up and let's get going. You have your morning endurance routine and I want to explore the kitchen. Chuuuuuuck…Chuuuuuck," she sing-songed in his ear."

"Sarah, you need to stay out of the kitchen. It's a danger zone with you in it. Let Amelia handle breakfast and just you shower and get beautiful. I'll be 90 minutes at the most and then you can fly me down to Miami in your Porsche. Meeting's at 10am."

He kissed her soundly, explored her mouth with his tongue, and commented again about how he could taste sunshine in her kiss and bounced out of bed and was gone.

"Chuck, Chuck, wait, who the hell is Amelia?"

She got out of bed and threw on a long robe from her closet. 'Mmmm, silk. That man does have good taste."

She walked into the kitchen and was greeted by a little woman of about 70 who was one big smile. "Good morning, senorita Walker. Senor Chuck says 'eat and drink' and then he will see you later. I am Amelia Cerrada, and I look after Senor Chuck's house."

She leaned over conspiratorially and almost whispered, "I never liked that _puta_ Carina. She is bad for the jefe. Makes him sad and make jokes about his manhood. She is a _puta_, that one. After she was cut by a mugger he took care of her like a man does his wife but there is no love there."

"I know that he does not share her bed and that they fight often about you, senorita. His orchids, his car, the things in the special room, the big boat in Lantana, they were all here for you if and when you came."

"I am glad he has found you again. He talked about you many times when he 'helped' me cook or clean. He is a rare man, that one. Be kind to him or I will beat you with a stick." She threatened Sarah with a spatula as she continued cooking breakfast.

Sarah giggled. _Puta_, she knew, was Spanish for whore. Chuck had called her a

duplicitous whore on the phone. And she didn't doubt this old woman would beat her with a stick.

"And what did Senor Chuck say about me, senora?"

"Oh, just that you were his sun. That you tasted like sunshine and had made his life bright with your light. He is a romantic, that one. He said one time, just once, that he feared all was lost and that you were done with him because of the _puta_. Sometimes when I come in early I find him asleep on the beach, empty bottles of cervesa everywhere and I know he has been fighting with the _puta_ and thinking of you again."

"Well, Carina is still going to live here because of her job, Amelia, but Chuck and I are together. Another business associate of ours will be moving in also. A man named Larkin. He and Carina will probably like each other. He likes women like her."

Amelia served her breakfast and coffee at the small breakfast nook. Sarah looked out and saw Chuck swimming laps in the pool. His strokes were even and powerful and smooth. She blushed as she compared them to other strokes. Evil Sarah was playing with her head this morning but she didn't mind at all.

Chuck appeared fully dressed about 20 minutes later. "Good morning, Amelia. I see you've met Sarah. Be nice to her, Amelia, no beating her with a stick like you threaten Carina with. Morning, baby, you look well-rested," as he kissed her ear. "What time do we have to meet with Graham again?"

"We're supposed to meet him at 10am so I suppose I better get a move on. Amelia, breakfast was wonderful. And I don't think you'll need a stick."

They were half way to Miami by 9am. Sarah was testing the limits on her Porsche and so far had a few comments. "Chuck, you either learn how to drive a standard or stay away from the Porsche. I can feel clutch chatter at 80 and that's a sign someone's big foot has been riding the clutch. How can a man reach your age and not know how to drive a standard shift?"

"Hey, I can drive a standard. I told you all that brake/clutch/gas stuff was not my thing. I like 'drive' and 'reverse'. Simple just like me."

She knew he was anything but simple. She had never met a more complex individual in her entire life. But she loved him anyway and told him so.

* * *

**Federal Intelligence Facility  
Miami, FL**

They pulled down into the underground garage and Sarah leaned over the console and kissed him hungrily. "Thanks for the car, Chuck. And the orchid hot house. And the clothes. And the gun safe. And last night. But especially for not giving up on us. But one question and then we'll go up and meet the wizard. "What's the 'big boat in Lantana' that Amelia mentioned?"

"You'll see this weekend provided we're not tasked. You don't get seasick, do you, Sarah? I mean it's not really a big boat at all. And the ocean waves can be rough, especially when the winds are right. Carina spent almost the entire day feeding the fish everything she'd ever eaten the one time I finally caved and took her out for a day. She absolutely _hates_ what she calls the 'wallowing scow'."

"No, I love the water. So it's a small boat then? Just something to motor around in?"

"Well, yeah, I guess it's small in comparison to some of the others. I moor it in Lantana off the Two Georges pier. Sometimes I just go there to get away from Carina. There's always something to do and I usually spend some time in the bar."

"Chuck, Amelia says you drink too much. Do you have a problem? Need some help?"

"Not anymore I don't. And Amelia has a _borrocho_, a drunk, for a husband so one beer makes you an abusive boozer in her book."

"Now, Dorothy, let's go meet the Wizard. And please, don't make a scene. We're past it and nothing good could possibly come from it. A year ago you didn't feel this way."

"Well, he better not bring it up, Chuck, or all bets are off. Maybe you're right. I just find little of 'Uncle Art' very trustworthy right now." She kissed him lightly and got out of her Porsche.

"I didn't say trust him, I said don't make a scene. Trust him? No frikkin' way. But he has a definite tell when he lies, Sarah. You can recognize it easily once you know what to look for."

She looked at him curiously. "He has a _tell_?"

"Yep."

"Well, want to share?"

"Yep."

"Chuck…", a definite warning tone in her voice. He pushed the button for the elevator and they got in. "His lips move, Sarah, his lips move."

Sarah was still giggling when the car arrived on their floor.

* * *

Carina Hansen was waiting outside the conference room currently occupied by a very pissed off Director of the Intersect Project. He was not a happy camper, nor was she.

Firstly, she was wearing yesterday's clothing. And it was wrinkled.

Secondly, she had been summarily dismissed as partner to the intersect, Chuck Bartowski, a man she was hopelessly infatuated with. She had pulled out every trick from her bag of goodies and still failed to hold him. She had lied, threatened, cajoled and done everything short of getting pregnant but still she lost him to her foster-sister, Sarah Walker.

And lastly, she had to face the righteous wrath of her director. She had abandoned her partner and primary responsibility and gone partying with some friends from the DEA. He had an adverse reaction to the downloaded intersect update and had almost died. She had gotten drunk and woke up in the hotel room of a CIA agent named Larkin who was less than thrilled with her existence since he was probably going to be her new partner.

Life sucked. She knew she had used up all the 'atta-girls' she'd accumulated with the Director and would be treated just like any other agent. She wondered if the CIA had a station at the South Pole?

_**1 or 2 more chapters to go. **_

End GreenEyedGirl17


	18. Fools Tools Duels Rules

_A/N: There are one maybe two more chapters here. I've been busy so sorry about the delay. Getting north takes a lot more out of me than I planned on._

_Remember children: Arthur Graham = Morgan Freeman. Graham only works right if you use his image, mannerisms and speech patterns._

_Note to the interested: working on the Pole Dancer saga again._

_Armor-Plated-Rat_

_28July2009_

* * *

**Federal Intelligence Facility  
****Miami, FL**

An agent opened the conference room door and looked at Carina. "The Director will see you now, Agent Hansen."

She walked in and sat at the end of the conference table. Arthur Graham was at the other end conversing on his cell phone. He looked at her and frowned. "Let me get back to you on that. I have an administrative problem to handle. OK, about 2pm your time." He disconnected his call and placed his cell on the table, face up with the timer counting down from, it appeared, 120.

"Agent Hansen, you abandoned your partner, your asset actually, and he almost died. You did not exercise proper restraint and were observed drunk and disorderly in a public place. Further, you made allusions to the existence of the intersect and how he was 'inadequate due" the information downloaded. You have 60 seconds to explain your actions and 15 seconds to appeal your administrative punishment beginning…now."

"Uncle Art, please…" she began.

"Stop. Director Graham. There is no uncle Art here today, Agent Hansen. Continue. 45 seconds."

"He was fine when I left and I…"

"Stop. To hell with your lame excuses. You jeopardized the health and welfare of our most valuable intelligence asset to get drunk and probably laid. I ought to have you incarcerated until the end of time but you were improperly supervised and that was my fault. Effective immediately you are partnered with Bryce Larkin, subordinate to the Intersect Team. No appeal. If you screw this one up, God help you because I won't. Dismissed, Agent Hansen. Disappear. Remove yourself. Be gone. Now!"

Carina practically ran from the room, tears beginning to well up. She was soundly and roundly screwed. She worked for Bartowski and Walker. And had to schlep around with Larkin. Could the day get any better?

* * *

"Carina? Hey, Carina, I brought you a change of clothes. They're with the duty officer. I don't want you meeting Graham looking like you slept in your clothes." Chuck Talley smiled softly, not maliciously, at Carina Hansen.

She looked up at him and shrieked "You fucking bastard! I hope she screws you over again and this time you do die! You're her terminal assignment, Chuck." She ran for the elevator and distance from her former partner.

"Chuck, I told you she wouldn't appreciate what you did. When are you ever going to learn about people like her?" asked Sarah Walker. He just looked at her, sadly. "And when, Sarah, are people like you going to learn about people like me?" It wasn't a rebuke, per se, just a statement of fact concealed in a rhetorical question.

She didn't say anything. There was no response possible. He was right and he was wrong. People like him didn't exist in her world, or if they did, not for long. And that was her fear, that his basic good nature would get him killed. She reached over and took his hand and gave it a squeeze. She prayed this would not be a terminal assignment.

"I know, Chuck. I hope you don't change, but please be more careful. The spy world is unforgiving and grants very few second chances, and you, my dearest man, have used up far more 'second chances' than Fate should allow."

"Then Sarah, we shouldn't waste what time we have. Marry me, Sarah, and we'll grow as old as we can together."

"Chuck, we had this conversation in Burbank. I c-don't want to get married. Why can't we just be together without all the formality? Isn't being together and loving each other what marriage is all about? We don't need a scrap of paper, Chuck, not if we're committed to each other."

"Tell me the truth, Sarah, is it the idea of being married or is it being married to _me_ that you find so objectionable? It seems to me marriage is a state of affair you're already familiar with."

"I don't want to get married. Period. Why can't you understand that? And this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. I don't want to marry you."

"No further comments are required or invited. I get the idea. I'll tell you what I told Hansen in Mexico: I was 12 credits short of a degree in Computer and Electrical Engineering. One semester. I didn't have to graduate to get smart, Sarah, _I started that way_. So I get it. End of discussion."

"Chuck, please, we can talk about this later, OK, back home, not here. I didn't mean to upset you but can we please table it until we're alone at home? Please?"

He fixed her with a look she'd never seen before but should have recognized as a caution light blinking. "There's nothing to discuss. I don't want to change your mind. It's your decision. It was my offer and you demurred. Res ipsa loquitor, Sarah, the act speaks for itself. Graham's waiting. He's probably still steamed about Carina and I don't want any fallout from it so let's not keep the great man waiting." He walked to the conference room door and knocked and waited.

What Sarah Walker _didn't_ understand was that the refresher update of the intersect data included all the files, including the redacted files on one Sarah Walker. Arthur Graham had not considered going back to the source data when he purged records.

Chuck knew everything there was to know about Sarah Walker. Every damned thing including her unsanctioned marriage when she was 18 to Bruno Schlieter, her mark for a mission. Graham had pulled her out and saved her career. But she hadn't wanted to be saved. She loved him and was quite happy being Frau Bruno Schlieter. And he had been a dead ringer for one Charles Irving Bartowski. So pieces began falling into place for the puzzle that was Sarah Walker. Or should he begin referring to her as the 'widow Schlieter?' She wouldn't marry Chuck Bartowski because she was already married in her own mind to someone else. He was just a 'living' replacement, and her terminal assignment.

**Federal Intelligence Facility  
****Miami, FL**

**Conference Room**

Arthur Graham was not in a forgiving mood. Far from it. He fixed Chuck with the Mark One Hairy Eyeball. "Young man, you do not threaten the Director of the CIA. I don't care how valuable you are, you can be replaced, probably with someone a little more manageable. Do you understand me?" Chuck just looked at him, not insolently, but rather like he was looking at an interesting display specimen. He did not respond. He just sat there returning his own version of the director's dirty look.

"I'm sure Chuck was not threatening you, Director, just reminding you of his expanded knowledge of some unknown events? Isn't that right, Chuck?" She reached over and grabbed his hand under the table. She would have shaken it if she was sure Graham wouldn't notice it. What in the hell game was he playing?

Graham just sighed. He should have known better than to challenge him in front of his lady. He always did have a stubborn streak that was unbreakable. "All right, Chuck, bygones. Now, what additional information do you have on the potential threats posed by the freighters and that militia commander?"

"First a couple of questions. Why do those freighters have 6 motor whaleboats apiece when the crew numbers no more than 30? How long can they sustain themselves without resupply and finally, what is the Law of the Sea regarding hazards to navigation due to engineering casualties, specifically, how long can a country wait before claiming salvage rights?"

"All right, I'll have the brain trust break those down and we should have the answers with a couple of hours. Now what about the current situation?"

"Without an actual on-site recon I can only offer conjecture. The militia commander has a long and bloody history of attacking isolated installations, villages and small towns, first cutting them off from external support and then going through and slaughtering the garrisons and inhabitants."

"The force ratio should be 4:1 against an armed opponent but against a small town, 1: 15 or even greater would work. We're dealing with terrorists here, Director, not conquerors. They don't occupy, they destroy and withdraw frequently without a single casualty. They did it in Somalia, the Sudan and also against some small islands in the Indian Ocean. Supposedly he worked with the Tamil Tigers before they were slaughtered."

"Fine, but we're a long way from Africa and the Indian Ocean. What's his target?"

"Key West, Florida, Director."

Graham was shocked. Sarah Walker just looked at Chuck as if he'd grown a new head. He continued to stare at the Director and showed no overt emotional response to what he knew was a bombshell.

"That's just nuts, Bartowski. Nuts. I'd think you've been smoking crack or something except your tox screens came back negative. Attack a city in the United States and expect to escape without casualties? It couldn't be done. You must be mistaken. One of the smaller islands of the Keys perhaps, but Key West? It's , its, … oh, crap. Let's hear how you arrived at this conclusion."

"Bartowski is dead, Director. Carina forgets it, Walker forgets it and I'm surprised you forget it since you're such a stickler for proper identification. Like burned bodies in a plane crash? Or was it too difficult to determine which charred chunk was Chuck Bartowski?"

"Well, as you so eloquently stated, Director, bygones. It's not me you owe an apology to anyway, is it? As for Key West? It's closer to Cuba that the US mainland. It is a popular and well-known place with a huge transient population. It is only accessible by land using the Overseas Highway. The closest military post of any significance is Marathon since the NAS Key West was closed due to budget cuts. So, other than the cops, who's to defend them if 400 terrorists armed with automatic weapons and explosives storm ashore some dark and rainy night and start murdering tourists and residents, all in the name of Holy Jihad?"

There was silence so finite you could hear the sound of the director's whisker bristles as he rubbed his chin and glanced and a map and at Chuck. It made sense, thought the Director, and would make a huge impact on the American people and on American policy. If, in fact, they withdrew without casualties or carried their dead and wounded off with them, who would suspect far away Yemen or the Jihadists? Suspicion would fall much closer, on Cuba or the nut in Venezuela or further south to the drug cartels.

"So what are your recommendations? There are no precedents for this. Not in recent history, anyways."

"Have the navy board both ships and search them. If they resist, sink them with naval gunfire. No survivors. But of course, it would be on You-Tube in hours so that's probably out, right?"

"Boarding foreign-flagged ships in international waters without presumptive cause is an act of war. No, that's out. They've done nothing to warrant a search and seizure. They've been there for 2 weeks. Not a move, sound or action. Just sitting, allegedly awaiting repair parts from their line owners.

"Then shadow them each with a submarine and when they begin to launch their attacks, sink them with torpedoes. The Coast Guard can appear and 'rescue' any survivors although after sufficient delay to ensure there aren't any, or many. After all, international waters, rough seas, things happen."

Sarah let go of Chuck's hand, more to distance herself from him than to free it for some other use. '_Is it the intersect that makes him think this way, cold, mechanical, and unfeeling, or is this the Chuck that lurks beneath the surface? What happened to the kind and considerate man who brought his ex-lover and ex-partner fresh clothes and make up to let her avoid embarrassment?'_

Chuck noted her withdrawal and mentally shook his head. She still didn't understand and she probably wouldn't without an explanation he didn't want to go through, certainly not in front of the Director.

No, better she just wonder what kind of monster lurked beneath the surface and be wary. It was just one more obstacle thrown in their path. One more thing to ignore and pretend never happened. The things ignored between them would soon outnumber those acknowledged and that would be the end of Chuck and Sarah. How long would it be? One year, two? Probably less considering the rejected proposal. Everyone left him eventually. Everyone.

He was remembering the people falling from the stricken skyscrapers, the billowing clouds of dust and the celebrations of joy in the streets of some countries deemed friendly with the United States. The Jews had a saying: 'Never Again' and he, for one, believed it applied to the WTC, the Pentagon and those poor brave bastards on the flight that cratered into Pennsylvania farmland instead of the White House.

Arthur Graham knew exactly what Chuck Bartowski was thinking since he been on the other end of a table just such as this before.

'Chuck's coming to grips with the concept of, and responsibility for, the Greater Good. He will need guidance if he is to reach his goal without destroying his relationships with the people he'll need, and avoid further isolating himself. If I hadn't had Cathy all those years I wouldn't have made it this long without eating my gun.'

Graham sighed. He actually shook his head and failed to see that both agents thought he was in disagreement so they were both surprised with his statement.

"I agree with your assessment. I also agree that if submarine resources are available for monitoring the activities of the two 'disabled' freighters, your course of action is a sound one. I just don't know if the Powers That Be will buy it. There have been no large quantities of explosives sufficient to bring down even on span of the Overseas Highway let alone an amount required to sever several sections, as your scenario requires. We need more information on the freighters' 'cargo' if I'm going to sell this. Any suggestions, any precedents in the intersect from 'ancient history', Chuck?"

"None. Any such actions were during the Cuban Missile Crisis and those involved actually stopping ships in transit, not those moored in international waters."

"Then I'll see about tasking a SEAL team to steal aboard and recon. That will be all. I'll see you at your house in Lantana this evening about 6pm if that's appropriate?"

Sarah spoke up for the first time, relieved the meeting was over and glad to be back on firm footing. "That would be great. We'll see you then." And they both left the conference room, each thinking totally different thoughts about the other.

Chuck took out his iPhone and called Charah House. "Amelia, can you lay on dinner for 5 for about 7pm? I know it's short notice but our boss is coming to dinner as are Carina and her new business partner." He listened for a few minutes and then laughed. It was a bitter laugh totally without humor.

"Well, I suppose she is a little upset but ignore her, Amelia. Sarah and I will help you with any mess she leaves behind and is too lazy to clean up herself. Introduce yourself to Mr. Larkin but be civil, Amelia. It's not his fault he's partnered with la puta del Diablo, it's mine."

"Carina and Bryce are at the house. She's screaming bloody murder and moving her things. When we get back, we'll relocate your things to the master bedroom on the second floor and move the contents of the bath and gun safe, too. Shouldn't take more than a couple hours. And I'll clean up her mess. Amelia's got her hands full with such short notice on a dinner party. So, let's swing by the Two Georges dock in Boynton Beach and I'll show you the boat on the way back, OK?"

**Unknown Location  
****Florida Keys**

"We followed the female agent you identified, Commander, from the restaurant to a hotel room with the man who you say said he was her 'partner'. He is registered as Bryce Larkin. She was not registered. This morning they both drove to an office building in Miami that has long been known to house the Regional Operations for the Federal Intelligence Services and the FBI. Approximately 20 minutes after arriving she departed at a very high speed driving a sports car north to Lantana to a house on A1A known as the "Charah House" to the locals where she remains. She occupies this house with one Charles Talley, her husband, a wealthy software developer who moved here 5 months ago. There is a housekeeper but no staff."

"Pay them a visit tonight. Take two teams of the newer fighters staying in the Miami area in various motels. Call them together and then take them north. Approach from the beach side only. Let's not invite the local police to our party. Kill everyone. Plant the narcotics. Make it look like a drug deal gone bad. Hack up the bodies. Maximum blood, maximum carnage. It will look good in the papers and on their television."

"It will be done, Commander. Inshallah."

**Federal Intelligence Facility  
****Miami, FL**

Sarah smiled and put her arm through his and dragged him to the elevator. When the car came she noted the surveillance and put her intended action on hold. Some things were best done in privacy.

When they got down to the parking garage she unlocked the car and when Chuck got in she shut her door and walked around to his and opened it and sat straddling him. Before he could do more than form a thought she slammed the door and grabbed his head between her hands. "Chuck, please don't ever confront Graham on such a personal level again. You scared the crap out of me. You may have won this round but one of these days you'll find yourself on the losing end. What will you do then?"

He looked into blue eyes that had filled his dreams for months and saw the fear and dread that lurked there.

"He was wrong. He knew he was wrong. There is no replacement. The intersect ver 2.0 blew up on them in FT Meade and took a lot of good people with it. It's in the download and he either doesn't know or doesn't care that I know an empty threat when I hear it."

He ran the pads of his fingers down her cheek to her lips and then sighed. "Sarah, right now Art Graham is between the dog and the fireplug. He's got a problem he can't solve with any of the legal means available. That's the only reason he's going outside the Company and considering tasking the SEAL team. He needed to know what options he had, no matter how cold and cruel and insensitive your might think I'm being for suggesting them. I'm an asset as well as the intersect. He needed the asset as much as the intersect this morning."

"And besides, 'bygones' is as close to an apology as you'll get from him for lying to you. That was the reason for the staring match. I wanted him to restore your dignity and your 'face' but he's too small a man to do that so be grateful for what we got out of him."

Sarah looked confused. "Wait a minute, you did that whole staring thing for me? To get an apology out of him to me for lying about you and the whole Carina situation? For me?"

He just nodded his head and looked sad. "Oh, Chuck, it wasn't worth it. Promise me you won't do something like that again for me or anyone else, Chuck. It's too risky. You don't know what he might do." She kissed him very softly and then smiled against his lips. "Let's go home so I can properly do this." And she attacked his mouth with hers, delving deep into his mouth with her tongue, exploring and but failing to excite a similar reaction from him. She started moving against him and he was hard pressed to stop her.

"No, Sarah. No here and not now. Let's go check out the boat that makes Carina vomit."

**Two Georges Dock  
****Boynton Beach, FL **

"So, Sarah, there it is. Like it." Sarah looked at the small day sailor and wondered if she and Carina would have feeding the fish puke in common. She sincerely hoped not. She also hoped Chuck wouldn't want to 'take her out for a spin'.

"It's cute, Chuck. It has that little motor hanging off the back end and you got a mast so it's got sails and I'm sure it's fun." He grinned. He knew she wasn't looking at the right boat.

"Um, Sarah, no, it's not that one. It's that one, the next one in line." He pointed to a 43 foot Bertram that was moored in the next slip. He didn't mention the name figuring either she saw it or she didn't. It really didn't matter to him one way or another. He loved the damned thing. Wooden boats had more heart and soul than fiberglass bottoms.

"Chuck, 'Sarah's Smile'?" She turned quickly so she could wipe her eyes. Damn him! He was always doing something wonderful and she couldn't handle any more tears.

"Hey, I know it's a wooden boat but wait until you see her. She's sturdy and I got her for a song. This recession has benefited us a lot. Cheap house, cheap Porsche, cheap boat. And like everything else but the Porsche, it's in both our names. Come on aboard and take a look but lose the high heels, Sarah. You'll mar the deck and break an ankle. Both would be tragedies."

He walked over and held her hand while she removed her boots. What was it with her and high-heeled boots? Her slacks billowed around her ankles and he laughed at her thinking how she looked like a young girl wearing her mom's slacks. She shot him a glare and stepped up to the gunwale and down into the cockpit. He hopped in and led her along the deck to the very bow of the boat.

"OK, see those windows across the fore deck here? Those are transoms to the stateroom and they open out to allow fresh air ventilation. Those smaller windows below the bridge are for light in the salon and only the center one opens. There's no place unsafe to step up here except the rails and portals, Sarah. Do that and you'll bust your ass big-time.

He led her by the hand down to solid mahogany door with a keypad lock. "It's my date of birth. Go ahead." He went up to the enclosed cockpit and did something and then came down the ladder and opened up a small vented hatch near the rear seats and did something with some valves and switches and then went back to the cockpit and started the port engine. "That's to charge up the batteries and power the generator for the A/C."

He led her by the hand to a cantilevered hatch that set flush with the bulkhead and deck. It also had a keypad. "Same deal, Sarah, go ahead." He raised the hatch and latched it open and led her down the steep steps to the main salon. He went over and popped an electrical box cover and flipped some switches. Light illuminated the salon. "Sarah, over here is the armory. 9-1-1 is the combo since opening it would be an emergency." He opened the safe door and there were two M1911s and two of her precious Beretta's. "There's an M-16 under the bench there with extra mags. Now, these will sleep four comfortably and here's the galley, and the shower and head. We won't be using these. Ours are a bit more…civilized."

She just looked around in a daze. The force of the air conditioning and the open transom window was overwhelming the stifling heat. "Chuck, this is incredible. How fast will it go?" Leave it to her to cut through to the important stuff, he thought with a smirk. "Depending on how much fuel you want to burn, 28 knots is the advertised 'best speed' but I've had her up to 32 knots in calm and flat seas but she cruises nicely in almost any weather at 10 knots."

"Fuel consumption depends on speed and time so we're limited to about 120 miles at full 28 knots but pare it down to 10 knots and you've got 650 miles and running only one diesel doubles the range to 1200 nautical miles at 8 knots. So we could make it to almost any of the islands east and south."

"Now for the best part." He opened a locked door and ushered her in. It was the master stateroom situated in the bow of the boat. It contained built-ins for closets, bureaus and desk as well as a full bath and, as he put it, a 'civilized' commode. A queen-sized berth dominated the entire room with several pillows facing the bow and looking up at the transomed window. There were rails to keep sleepers from falling out in rough weather but other than that, it was a regular bed.

"Oh, Chuck, this is wonderful. So when can we take it out? Where can we go? Bermuda? The Bahamas?"

"Well, I was thinking Key West."

She grinned and grabbed his tie and led him to the bed. The A/C had reduced the heat to pleasant warmth and the breeze coming in through the transom made it very comfortable. She pushed him down onto the bed and started undressing. "Um, Sarah, we really have to get back to Charah House. I'm sure Carina's left a mess and…" She pounced, cutting off any further discussion for quite a while.

She lay in his arms, playing with the hair on his chest. "Chuck, did you mean what you said about the marriage being my decision alone?" Chuck just sighed. He knew she'd bring it back up but this was not the moment he'd anticipated and he really didn't want to discuss it again. She seemed to use her sex as a means of getting what she wanted. Well, she couldn't change who she was. She was one of Art's Girls, an assassin who used her body and beauty to get close to the mark and kill him. And he knew he was her terminal assignment.

"You made your position clear this morning. I asked. You declined. You should wear a cover wedding band, though. Just for show, of course. It is a mission requirement, you know."

She didn't know why but the last two sentences hurt.

**Charah House  
****Lantana, FL**

While Sarah parked the car in the garage Chuck went into the kitchen and attempted to calm Amelia down. She kept muttering about the 'puta del Diablo' and how she shows no respect to a married Christian woman and how she will cut off her tetas if she doesn't cover them.

Bryce was sitting at the table by the window reading the local paper and drinking Amelia's strong Cuban coffee. He raised his mug in a toast and greeting. "Well, you have a wonderful place here, Chuck, but I don't think I can stay. That woman in the kitchen has already threatened me with a cleaver and mutters about the Devil's own Whore and how she's going to cut… well, anyhow, I think I make her uncomfortable. And I know Carina's deliberately baiting her to quit."

"Bryce, I explained to Amelia about how you don't have a choice and how you're not thrilled with the arrangements and she's OK with you. She thought you were 'with' the… um, Carina and was scandalized. She's a very Catholic Cuban woman with strong ideas. But…" Just then Amelia brought Chuck a mug of coffee and refilled 'senor Bryce's' mug. She smiled at Bryce, looked out at Carina sunbathing naked, and sighed and patted Bryce's shoulder muttering 'poor man'.

Chuck laughed. "See? You're forgiven and been blessed. I got 'poor man' almost daily before Sarah showed up. So, you moved in OK, find everything you need? Figure out the gun safe?"

"Yep. Fantastic house, great coffee, beautiful ocean view. I suppose I can force myself to get used to it." He grinned and Chuck remembered his best friend from Stanford, not the scumbag who got him expelled. "Well, anything you need let me or Amelia know. Finish your coffee. I want to go over the alarm system and the passive defenses with you and Sarah. We're isolated and easy targets if someone figures out just who the hell we are and decides to eliminate the threat. And I have to do something about her," he said, nodding at Carina's nude figure beside the pool. She was putting sunscreen on her nipples and enjoying it entirely too much.

Chuck walked out toward Carina's relining figure and bent over and flipped the chaise lounge and her into the pool. A sputtering and very pissed Carina shot to the surface. "What the…" and Chuck leaned in and put his hand on top of her head and pushed her under the water. After a reasonable time and when her thrashing had subsided somewhat he pulled her up by the hair. "Carina, behave yourself. Wear a bikini. I've warned you before. Quit being a tramp. Now, are you…" "You son of a …" and he pushed her head under the water again, holding her there for almost 45 seconds. The process was repeated several times until he finally heard "OK, I'll wear a damned bikini, I promise to be nice to her, I promise, Chuck, please, let me out."

"Art's talking the Aleutians, Carina. Be on your best behavior. One word from me and you're gone. Got it?"

"Yes… I 'got it'."

"Good. Here's a towel. Get to your room and clean up the mess you left in the Master suite. Art's coming for dinner at 6. Wear something appropriate and don't unzip Bryce at the table, Carina. That's crude."

She shrieked, threw the towel at him and flounced naked through the kitchen up to the Master Bedroom to clear up the debris of her departure.

Amelia had one of her special smiles on and Sarah was looking studiously at the newspaper, not realizing it was upside down. Bryce just smiled, remembering his college roommate and other times he'd brought shame on someone. Like 2 years ago at the BuyMore when he'd shown up with Jill, his CIA partner, in tow to see how Chuck was doing and he and his little green-eyed girlfriend had eviscerated them. Jill had left him not long after that. He'd been surprised she'd lasted as long as she had. She'd loved Chuck with a depth and passion he could only hope for and Chuck's 'betrayal' by cheating and being expelled had converted it to an equal degree of hate and revulsion. And now she was Fulcrum and their sworn enemy. Life was funny.

But Chuck hadn't changed a bit, still looking out for the weaker and helpless. Bryce was afraid Chuck wouldn't last long in the spy game but he'd leave a legacy, which was for sure. For what seemed like the nth time he regretted sending Chuck the intersect download, but he also recognized that few others would have the character to use it as he had. Some small balm for his guilt. And Sarah Walker would ensure that the time he did have would be as long as possible or as short as necessary. It was her job, her terminal assignment.

Amelia shooed Chuck from the kitchen. It was hers and his 'help' was not wanted. This was her dinner party to prepare for; it was his to enjoy. He reminded her of a puppy, easily excitable and wanting to do everything at the same time and falling all over himself in the process.

She was proud of how he'd tamed the she-devil and put her in her place. She was afraid he'd drown her but should have known he wouldn't. She did not think the jefe would harm a fly. But she'd seen his temper and would not want to be on the receiving end of it. She almost felt sorry for the puta. She did feel sorry for senor Bryce. She had misjudged him and she had apologized in her own way. He was an old friend of the jefe's but she could tell there was a long story there and not all of it was pleasant.  


* * *

Arthur Graham arrived with an escort and was given the Cook's tour by Chuck and Sarah. He was impressed with everything he'd seen Chuck touch and wasn't nearly as surprised as he thought he'd be with the steps he'd gone through to win Sarah Walker back. Nothing the kid did surprised him too much any more. He seemed to have the world by the balls and wasn't above squeezing them to get what he wanted.

Dinner was a rousing success and Amelia basked in the praises of her jefe's guests. Even the puta found the meal amazing and made a point to tell her so without any witnesses. Heaven must have found a spare miracle.

Over dinner they talked about the SEAL's recon and probable completion date. Chuck felt that the attack would coincide with bad weather to further hamper the residents and defenders. The weather forecast for the next week was sunny with no hint of foul weather. There was a 'tropical disturbance' off the coast of Africa that was the traditional birthplace of Gulf and Caribbean hurricanes. That was at least 10 – 12 days away and no guarantee of growing into what the terrorists would want. Hurricanes were notoriously hard to predict, and it was difficult to anticipate their path with any accuracy.

Graham said that he was still waiting to hear from the Navy on his request for subs to shadow the freighters and didn't hold out much hope. The recon by the SEALS was scheduled for a few days from now and they would board the eastern-most freighter since it was closest to Key West.

Arthur Graham noted the coolness and the distance between Sarah Walker and Chuck Bartowski. He saw it first that morning during the conference but wrote it off to his involvement in the meeting but now he could see the tension in Walker as she looked at Chuck out of the corner of her eye and played the role of hostess without any of the touching he'd witnessed in the past. It was like they were 'partners' in the professional sense, only. He resolved to call her in the morning and get a sitrep on her 'other mission'.

Over brandy and coffee on the veranda they just shared small talk until the Director announced he'd overstayed his welcome as it was past 10pm but needed to speak with Chuck in private.

As Chuck and the Director walked down the staircase to his car the Director put his hand on Chuck's arm and stopped him. "Chuck, what's going on with you and Walker? Everything all right there? She seemed rather cool and distant to you all evening, very proper, but very distant. Is she upset about something I said?"

"No, Director, she's just being Sarah Walker and realizing that I know all about her. I asked her to marry me this morning."

Arthur Graham beamed a smile few saw. "That's wonderful, Chuck! Oh, I wish Cathy were here to see this! One of our girls getting married. She'd have wedding planners working over…"

"She said 'No', Director." Chuck looked away. For some reason telling Arthur Graham of that morning's proposal and rejection brought the whole thing back into perspective and he didn't want to see the look on the Director's face.

"Oh, Chuck, give her time. Marriage is a big step for someone like her. She'll come around. All she has to do is look around and see what one man did to win back the woman he loved and lost through no fault of his own."

"She's already married, Art, to Bruno Schlieter, well, she's his widow. I guess I'm just a look-alike replacement. Art, reassign them all to happier places. I give up. I'll go into agent training like you wanted. I guess this releases her from her terminal assignment – unless you plan on terminating me out of spite? I read Lynn's notes, Art. She was dreading the T/O. I couldn't figure it out until it dawned on me that T/O was 'termination order'. I was Lynn's 'terminal assignment' also, wasn't I?"

Arthur Graham sighed and looked down at his feet. He suddenly felt every one of his 62 years. "Yes, she was, Chuck." He sighed and the young man suddenly realized how old Arthur Graham had gotten since his wife's death from cancer. "Chuck, I – I want you to think hard on this, son. This is a life-changing decision. You'll never be able to leave, never. Look at Larkin. Look at Walker. Do you want to be like them, Chuck? Do you want to end up like they will?"

"I can reassign them all, right now, tonight, they'll be gone in half an hour and I'll have a new team here in a few hours. I'll pull the terminal assignment on Walker and send her and Larkin back to Europe and Carina anywhere she wants if you want things to remain status quo. I'm offering you your old life back but with conditions. You stay the intersect and work with us just like you have. And I'll pull the T/A from Walker."

"OK, if you think that will work out best. But not here. Too many memories. I'll sell it all and send Walker her money. I want a new identity and location and as far as the CIA is concerned, Charles Talley will have died in a tragic boat fire later tonight. I'll contact you in a few day to see what new orders you'll have."

"But Art, no 'experienced agents', please? I've had it with agents who come with a full set of baggage. Keep the old hands and burn-outs far away from me, please?"

"Fine, Chuck. Go back inside and go for a run on the beach. They'll be gone in less than an hour. Take your time, son. Get your head back in the game. I'm sorry about you and Sarah, Chuck. Sorry for you, most of all. Your feelings are real, tangible, and the evidence is all around us. I don't know if she'll ever be anything but damaged goods. I'll take care of her like I always have. And Carina, too. Don't you worry."

Chuck and Arthur Graham shook hands and the Director gave in to his feelings and hugged Chuck like he had on another night years earlier. "Son, I'm so proud of you. You always do the right thing, no matter what it costs you. Stay safe, Chuck. Don't give up on life just because of one heartbreak. And don't hate her for what she is, Chuck, hate me for what she is. I made her. It's my fault, son."

Graham signaled his driver that he wasn't leaving yet and walked back up the steps to the house with Chuck. Chuck saw the 3 agents out on the verandah and went into the kitchen and put on his bathing suit and flip-flops and left by the mudroom door. He walked down to the water's edge and walked into the warm surf for probably the last time on this beach. He swam out about 50 yards then started south at a steady crawl for the Lantana Light about a mile away.

The three remaining agents had returned to the veranda for more coffee. Carina had been on her best behavior and Larkin seemed fairly satisfied with his new partner once she got dressed and quit shrieking every 5 minutes. Sarah knew he'd have Carina in the sack within a few days and move into her room a few days later.

She wondered what the Director and Chuck were talking about. When those two got together, sparks flew. She hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid. She wanted to talk with him, really talk. She had a confession to make and she knew it would be a life-changing moment for the both of them but she trusted him, he would always do the right thing, and this time she would, too.

She was startled when the Director appeared in the French doorway and said "Listen up, people, go up and pack your things and be at the car in 30 minutes. This operation has been administratively terminated effective immediately. Bryce, go pack. I need a few minutes with these ladies."

After Bryce Larkin made a hasty exit, Arthur Graham sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sighed and stared at the cup before him as if he could find answers or inspiration in the swirling rich brown liquid.

"I've screwed up, several times. Once when I failed to get Bartowski into a 'young agent' program like Larkin and allowed him to remain in the regular world because of his sister. I screwed up again when I sent Lynn Kimble to be Bartowski's handler and terminal assignment and she fell victim to the Omaha Project's only other survivor and married him and then went rogue."

"When I sent you, Walker, to be his terminal assignment it was never to be your last assignment, you were there to execute the inevitable termination order that would have come down once the Omaha Project security files were made public to Congress. He was the last 'loose end' not in custody or working for an agency. All your plans for a happily-ever-after would never have come to pass anyway. You were too stubborn to recognize the real thing when you had it in your hands and now it's slipped away from you."

"And Carina, you never should have been allowed to take Bartowski off the grid. You were too vulnerable and he was too good at what he does best. Eventually, he would have connected the dots and become what we, at Langley, all feared he'd become: the Omaha Project's only success story. And he'd be out of our control and you, Carina, would not have had the will to terminate him."

"Agent Walker, you and Larkin will be returning to Europe on the next available flight to resume your mission there. Agent Hansen, you will be posted to the Miami office pending reassignment as liaison with the DEA in Miami".

A teary-eyed Carina Hansen looked at her boss and said, loudly, "What about Chuck? What about him? What's going to happen to him, Director?" Sarah's eye's filled with tears. She knew what "administratively terminated" meant. Those not immediately reassigned upon announcement would have no further reassignment options. They'd be dead.

"My driver is taking care of all the loose ends now. A cleaner team will be here within the hour. Carina, pull yourself together, act professionally now, and go and pack your things, sweetie. Bring them down to the car. We'll be waiting."

Carina ran from the room and down the corridor to the bedroom wing.

"All this could have been avoided, Sarah Walker, if you'd just said 'yes' to his proposal. He would have submitted to agent training and been protected from Congress by the national security blanket covering active assets of the Omaha Project. A simple 'yes' to a question you told me you wanted him to ask. A simple 'yes' and all his efforts would have been vindicated. A simple 'yes' to the man who did all this to win back a woman he did nothing to lose in the first place. So, tell me, Sarah Walker, why you said 'no' instead?"

She had been looking at her hands that were folded in her lap. Tears stained her cheeks and her nose was running. "I was afraid, Art. I was afraid that he'd discover, that he'd find out who I was, what I was, and that he wouldn't love me like I love him. I was afraid I'd corrupt him, ruin what we had just like everything else in my life. I was afraid of losing him so not having him was a simple solution. You can't lose what you never had, Art. I thought we were happy until he brought up rings and marriage. I thought, I really believed if I could just keep him, if I could just…" She couldn't talk through her silent weeping.

"That's the stupidest thing I've heard come out of your mouth in a long time, Sarah. He's the fucking intersect. He has the old files in his head. He's known since the update who you are, what you are, who've you've been with, slept with, married and divorced. Sweet Jesus, Sarah, he loved you warts and all. He loved you enough to do all this and more."

"He's giving up his life so you can be happy and safe. He knew what the hell you were, Sarah, and he asked you, this morning, to marry him and you said 'no' or some such bullshit. This is getting repetitious, you damned self-serving hypocrite. Well, it's a done-deal now. Not unless you can bring back the dead. Happy now? You'll never have to worry about him again."

"You and Larkin, you're meant for each other. Both thinking only about yourselves. Just don't have children with him, Sarah, they'll all look like jackals considering what their parents are. Now get out of my sight."

* * *

Six hundred yards off shore, 3 zodiac boats each carrying 3 militia members and a driver with heavily-muffled motors turned towards Charah House.

The more Chuck thought about the way Sarah was behaving, the angrier he got. As angry as he was, he set a brutal pace and found himself parallel to the light before he was even aware of it. That was stupid. That's how people drowned. He turned northward and continued on at a less demanding pace, still thinking.

H was almost parallel to the southern-most property line when he heard the muffled outboards. At first he thought it was a fishing party just going out. Either way he wasn't concerned until he realized the Doppler was crossing him right to left meaning the sound was approaching the shore and Charah House. He changed course and drew parallel to one of the zodiacs about 20 yards away and backlit by the lights of Lantana and distant West Palm Beach.

Three or four men in each and at least two zodiacs that he could see. He had to get to shore ahead of them and trip the passives, get into the house and reset the mode to 'active'. If someone in the house reset it to active while he was out here, he'd be Swiss-cheesed by the Claymores he'd had planted at the base of the veranda wall. Shit, damned if he did and damned if he didn't. He remembered sighting them in to a beaten zone about 20 yards down from high tide. Now he wished he'd been a little less sanguine.

He swam behind the nearest zodiac and as it almost made the shore he stood up in the waist-deep water and grabbed the driver in a chokehold and silently pulled him into the ocean. Chuck ignored the man's thrashings and even the cold slice of a knife across his right rib cage and squeezed his forearm across the throat until he felt the hyoid bone break and the throat collapse inward.

Chuck released the body to float away and climbed in and started the outboard and backed off the sand and turned northward. He had to get out of the beaten zone. He powered past two other empty zodiacs and headed northward to the edge of the zone then pulled the zodiac up on shore and sprinted for the verandah.

* * *

Arthur Graham was finishing his coffee and wondering if this plan would bear any fruit. He hated the fact that Chuck and Sarah were not going to get married. Chuck had gone as far as he could go and apparently she was just too steadfast in her stubbornness to explain anything to him. He almost dropped his coffee in his lap when he saw Chuck sprint up the sand and into the house. He got up and walked into the living room and saw Chuck fiddling with some switches on a control panel concealed in an end table.

The TV turned on and he saw a low-light rendering of the beach area from the verandah. Several men in fatigues carrying weapons were stealthily approaching the house. Chuck flipped on the passive defenses, waited 30 seconds then flipped on the active defenses.

Sarah did not hear the warning chime of the passive arrays but was putting the rest of her travel clothing into a bag when she heard the klaxon warning of active measures. She ran out of the master suite and was to the top of the curved staircase weapon in hand. Carina and Bryce were in the bedroom wing and had heard the passive notification but ignored it. Like Sarah, however, the klaxon galvanized them to open their weapons safe and arm themselves.

The NSA tech who set up the system was an evil genius. First a series of mortars launched star shells aloft and as they exploded like fireworks on July 4th (which is exactly what they were, aerial fireworks), the claymores ripple-fired across the front of the veranda wall and down to the water's edge, about 40 yards. Just as he'd conceived, the assaulting terrorists stopped at the firing of the star shells and froze as they'd been trained. They were cut down, leaving no survivors.

Sarah both heard and felt the 'whump' of the mortars firing followed by the almost simultaneous explosions of the fireworks and the rippling of the claymores.

"This is Talley. I need a cleaner crew at Charah House in Lantana. At least 7-10 bad guys down and possible police involvement because of munitions use. Need them here immediately. I have one executive type involved also so squash the press, guys. No coverage, please."

Chuck took two weapons from the cabinet and tossed one to Graham. "I think you remember how to use one of these, right, Director? Let's go confirm the body count and then wait for the cleaners. I want to look at those zodiacs. I took one steersman out and hijacked it but it might be toast in the beaten zone. Gotta love those Claymores, Art".

Arthur Graham felt 20 years younger as he walked behind and to the side of Chuck Talley as he kicked, rolled over or squatted to examine each one of the attackers. He finally flashed on the one in the lead. He'd taken an entire Claymore from the chest down and there wasn't much left but his face was intact. He was one of the goons from the Boca party that had started all of this.

"Director, I think you got your 'probable cause' for the subs. This guy is a Yemeni and is deputy commander of the merc militia. Sink those damned freighters and 'protect the greater good'."

Arthur Graham had completed checking the bodies and sadly found no one alive to interrogate. He was in the mood for a good interrogation session especially since he had to look forward to dealing with the three idiots.

The remaining three agents were clustered on the verandah looking out over the beachfront. Arthur Graham called out to Chuck, "I only count 11, Talley, one got away."

Chuck just sat down on the sand, suddenly very tired and very light headed. He wanted very badly to find Arthur Graham and tell him something. He couldn't remember what, but he knew it was really important. He raised his head and saw Graham walking toward him saying something about one getting away.

He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and said "No, I got one before they hit the beach." He didn't think Graham even heard him. He was mad about something, as usual, and was waving his hands around and pointing to somewhere but Chuck was too tired to turn his head and look. He needed a nap. And he was so cold and he had the urge to just lie down and let it all go away.

Arthur Graham counted the bodies and shouted to Chuck, "I only count 11, Talley, one got away." He saw Chuck look at him and then sit down on the sand beside one of the bodies, his eyes examining something in his lap. He saw him raise his head, shake it in the negative and say something but it was too soft to be heard.

Graham walked towards the sitting man repeating what he'd said earlier. Chuck looked at him and said nothing. Arthur Graham saw the blood staining the sand and shouted to the 3 agents, "One of you useless turds get on the horn and get a medevac bird laid on with the cleaners. Agent down!"

Sarah Walker sprinted towards the now-kneeling Director and Chuck Talley. She went to her knees and practically pushed the Director away from them. "Chuck, no, don't you dare do this to me, not now, not when I know, no, not now." She was holding an unconscious Chuck against her and rocking, repeating her mantra "don't you dare, no, no, don't you dare do this", over and over while trying to stop the bleeding with direct pressure on the wound.

Graham took off his coat and handed it to her and she covered the shivering man and screamed for Carina to bring the first aid kit.

They used some field expedients to try and stop the bleeding and while it slowed, it did not totally stop. Bryce walked down to the waterline and found where Chuck's blood trail began, followed it up into the house and then out and down the beach. His experience told him that Chuck had lost at least a third of his total blood volume.

"Carina, you guys got a transfusion kit in there? I'm his blood type, A+, so let's get a transfusion started."

Carina found the paper bag labeled 'transfusion kit' and tore it open. She and Art stuck Bryce and then Chuck. It was difficult to find a vein that didn't collapse with each attempt but finally they found one inside his elbow. Bryce started squeezing the rubber ball included and they watched the blood begin to transfer successfully.

He was dreadfully pale and Sarah never gave up her mantra or her attempts to stop the bleeding with the compresses. It seemed like forever but finally Art heard the 'whap whap whap' of a chopper.

He walked into the house and flipped on all the exterior lights to guide the chopper in to the beachfront. His driver was waiting down the roadway to direct the cleaner team and any emergency vehicles and to use his "FBI" badge to divert any locals or police.

Sarah threw herself over Chuck to shield him from the stinging sand as the chopper landed. Strange hands pulled her away and put Chuck on a litter after disconnecting the transfusion from Bryce. She ran after them and when they refused to allow her on the chopper she pulled her weapon. She got on and the bird took off.

* * *

The cleaner team arrived and Art took Bryce and Carina inside the house and sat them both down.

"OK, here's the way this will go down. You two go back upstairs and unpack. Find Walker's stuff and unpack it and put it in whatever room Bartow… I mean Talley's using. We're back on go, Team Intersect."

"I'm going to have subs sink those bastards and we'll all meet on a conference call tomorrow at 10am. I'll let you know his condition then. In the meantime, get some rest and thank Chuck Talley for your lives. Spend the rest of your time with him earning them. He may have paid for them with his own."

**Unknown Hospital Facility**

Sarah Walker was covered with drying blood and her clothes were stiff with it. One of the nurses took pity on her and took her by the hand and led her to the nurses' lounge area and gave a cup of strong coffee and pointed out the locker room and shower area. She gave her a set of scrubs and told her if thing happened she'd come and get her. "After all, your young man doesn't want to see you all bloody and sticky. He might think it's yours and you wouldn't want to worry him unnecessarily, would you?"

The cover story was that he was surfing and she was watching when some crack heads tried to mug them. So far it was holding up although the nurse's eyebrows disappeared into her hair when she saw Sarah's M1911 .45; she was treated with a lot more deference after that. Everyone knew about Florida and the DEA undercover agents. No one talked about them, and that was the way it was.

Finally, a doctor came out of the surgery suite and walked over to her, recognizing her from the ER as the 'gun wielding blonde DEA agent whose partner was hurt'.

"Agent, he's going to be fine. Really sore and cranky, though. Some muscle damage but nothing to be really concerned about. We tied them on and he'll be fine. I see he's had a similar injury a while ago? Tell him to please wear his vest. He'll be in a room in 20 minutes and a nurse will come for you. He's getting some replacement units so don't freak out with all the IV's and blood bags. He was lucky. Tell him about the vest." He looked at her strangely when she just smiled and giggled. Crazy DEA agents must be snorting their evidence.

She sat in the rigid plastic chair and leaned her head back. What a night this had been. After a while a nurse came up to her and gently woke her. "Are you with the agent who was brought in with the knife wound?" She nodded her head. "I'm sorry, but he hemorrhaged and the doctors couldn't find the bleeder and he expired. You can see the body and identify it for the medical examiner."

She shot up out of the chair and looked around. Her heart was in her throat and she couldn't breathe. The friendly nurse from earlier came over and made her sit back down. "It was just a dream. He's OK. You can see him now. He'll be out of it for a few more hours and then will probably sleep for a few hours. If he keeps quiet and doesn't tear his incision and sutures he can probably go home tomorrow evening or the next day."

She went in and sat down next to the bed. He looked so still, small and pale. He was getting blood and some other stuff via IV and had the usual heart monitor attached with it's annoying 'beep-beep-beep-beep'. And the usual O2 sat monitor. She took his hand in hers and just held it loosely, feeling its warmth and noting how pale the nails were. How much blood had he lost? How close had it been? She really didn't want to know.

She wondered if Kevlar came in skeins like yarn. She would knit him a Kevlar shirt, sweater and coat, to hell with a vest. She'd talk to art about that Brit shirt. She'd get several t-shirts made of the stuff. They had the money so it didn't matter what it cost.

She leaned over and whispered softly in his ear "Ask me again, Chuck."

She sat there holding his hand, listening to him breathe, listening to the incredibly annoying 'beep-beep-beep-beep' of the heart monitor, watching his nail beds gain color and his face lose its grayish pallor.

After a long while she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. "Ask me again, Chuck, please?"

Two hours after a kind nurse had brought her a meal tray she leaned over and said "Chuck, I'm going to use the restroom, please don't go anywhere, please be here when I come back and Chuck, please ask me again."

Arthur Graham called her at 9am. "Agent, how is he?"

"He's still out. They've finished replacing his blood volume and he's looking a lot better. The gray pallor to the skin is gone and his nail beds are pink again. The doctor says he can go home later this evening or tomorrow morning."

"That's fine, Agent. I'll check back with you in a while. Any questions?"

"No, no questions. Wait! Yes, where is home? I mean where should I tell them to take him, Director?"

"You'll figure it out, Agent. You might call Hansen or Larkin, if you've a mind to."

That confused her. She'd wait a bit. Her partner was probably pissed she'd jumped on the chopper but… screw him. She leaned over and whispered in his ear "Chuck, please ask me again. Please."

She dozed off, holding his hand with her face near his ear. That damned 'beep-beep-beep-beep' still sounding in her ear. She awoke, saw he was still asleep or unconscious, and whispered again softly into his ear "Chuck, please wake up for me. It's me, Sarah, and I want you to ask me again, Chuck. Please, baby, please wake up and ask me again."

Carina called and asked about Chuck. She got up and walked out into the hall. She didn't want him waking up when she was on the phone. Those first few minutes were too important to her. She answered Carina's hundreds of questions, told her she'd have Chuck call her using her phone and disconnected and went into the room.

She sat down, held his hand, rested her face on the mattress beside his ear and again whispered her plaintive call: "Chuck, please wake up and ask me again. Please, please, it's me, Sarah and I need you to ask me again, baby, please."

The doctor came by and looked at his chart and took his vitals. He looked at the sleeping blonde agent and wondered again what tales these two could tell. He didn't think fraternization between partners was allowed. Oh, well, not his business. He unhooked the leads from the heart monitor figuring the agent could use the break. He should be awake any time now. If his vitals remained strong and his O2 sats stayed high he could probably be released to bed rest.

He nudged the sleeping agent and gave her the good news. "If he stays this good, you can take him home. Just make sure he stays in bed except for the bathroom. And if he needs to shower, tape a plastic bag over the incision area. There's no dressing on it since it'll heal faster without it. He's got 15 staples and he'll need them removed when he starts complaining about the itching. Keep it dry and don't let him tear any out. A little suppuration is normal, don't freak out. If it drips down the incision, or the wound appears red and angry, freak out and bring him into the ER. Got it?"

She nodded. A most unusual doctor. Seemed competent, anyways.

She leaned over and repeated her plea in his ear, ending it with a quick lick at his ear lobe for good luck. She felt his hand twitch in response and took that to be a good sign.

She held his hand and ran her fingers over the back of it, skirting the IV site and then turning it over and placing the palm on her cheek. She pressed a kiss into his palm and sighed, closing her eyes and wishing he'd wake up and end her agony. She was so ready for the question.

Chuck was sure he was dreaming. 'Ask me again, Chuck?' Ask who what? He smelled vanilla, Sarah. Some one was being cruel. Hospitals are supposed to smell like old urine, pine sol and old people, not vanilla. Wait! Why was he in a hospital? Was it a hospital? Had the Pimp double-crossed him again? Was he in an unmarked hole in the government desert?

He started to hyperventilate. That bastard! Why now? Did he screw over Sarah and the others, too? He had to get up and out of this bed.

"Stop struggling, you'll tear your staples and open your wound again. Please, calm down, it's OK, you're safe. It's me, Chuck, it's Sarah. You're safe and in a hospital. You can go home later today when the doctor makes rounds again. It's OK, Chuck."

The hand pressing down on his chest stopped pushing and started rubbing slow circles. His breathing calmed and he stopped trying to sit up. "What are you doing here, Agent Walker? Why aren't you off on assignment somewhere exciting and exotic with your partner? Did that bastard lie to me?"

"Chuck, I'm with my partner. Now, Chuck, listen carefully. I need to ask you to do something and I hope you'll do it. Chuck, please, ask me again, baby, ask me again."

"Ask what? Why can't I see? Why's everything so fuzzy?"

"Wait a sec, I'll get a cloth and wash your face and eyes. It's probably from the anesthesia. You got gooey gunk in your eyes. Sorry I didn't see it earlier."

She went to the bathroom and soaked a washcloth with warm water and gently washed his eyes and face. He looked better and she figured he'd feel better. She patted him dry.

"Better?"

"Yeah, I can see…you. So why are you here? What happened? Last thing I remember is being on the beach with the…" He looked around and then leaned over to her, motioning her closer. "Is this a CIA place, Agent Walker?"

Agent Walker. Agent Walker. Well, Agent Walker was getting pissed. "Chuck, yesterday morning you asked me an important question outside Art's conference room. I want you to ask me again. Now. Please, Chuck."

He thought about the previous morning. Some things were a bit fuzzy. So, she finally had an answer for me? Well, isn't that nice. Break it and then come back to rip it out with an explanation of why your dead husband was preferable to a live Chuck Talley? "I remember. '_Is it the idea of being married or is it being married to me that you find so objectionable?' that question?_"

She sighed. Of course he'd remember that question. "No, dumbass, the one before that. I remember it, why can't you?"

He looked at her and realized she was on the brink of tears and her chin was trembling like it did before she began an emotional crying jag. He took her hand in his and turned the palm up and kissed it gently. Then he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face up to his. "Marry me, Sarah, and we'll grow as old as we can together."

"Oh, yes, Chuck, yes. I'm sorry I didn't say yes yesterday. I was so afraid you'd find out about me and you wouldn't want me anymore. Chuck, I have…"

"Woman, please, stop telling me things I've already figured out or already know and kiss me before I change my mind. Please, Sarah, be my wife for all times? Hopefully in always better times? But always mine?"

A nice and soft kiss followed. Not one full of passion but one simply nice and soft and…comfortable. It was probably all Chuck could have taken since he was rapidly falling asleep again. But he did have one question for her.

"Sarah?" She noted that he'd tired awfully quickly and wondered if waking him had been such a good idea after all. She wanted him out of this abattoir as fast as possible and in a bed where she could be with him, not next to him.

"Yes, husband to be?" She grinned.

"Why the change of heart?" Oh, shit. Well, the truth would work.

"I was scared and then I got really scared. First I was afraid of you finding out all the things you say you already know. That's why I said 'no' yesterday. Then I realized how much you'd done to get us back where we belonged and I realized, well, Art made me realize, I was being a hypocrite. I loved Bruno, Chuck, just like you loved your Lynn. The difference is that Casey killed Lynn but I'm pretty sure the second shot from my pistol was between that fucker's eyes. And I really want those beautiful babies, Chuck, just like Lynn promised us."

* * *

The doctor signed the release forms 3 hours later. It was 6:30pm and they were headed back to their home in Lantana. "You know, honey, I like the sound of 'our home' in Lantana. Charah House. I love it and I love you. I still can't believe it's all ours."

"Well, Sarah, if you don't keep your eyes on the road it'll be the State of Florida's since my will is still in the lawyer's office. Now, let's drive up to West Palm Beach. There's something I absolutely have to do before we get home. Please. I feel great and we'll only be an additional 30 minutes at the most."

"Absolutely not, Charles Talley. We're not risking your health on an errand."

He looked at her and sighed. "Sarah, please. This is something for me, Sarah. One time I'm doing something for me. So, please, just keep on going. Thirty minutes is not going to kill me. Please?"

Now it was her turn to sigh. He'd never done anything for himself, not really. "OK, thirty minutes not one second more, understand me, Chuck?"

"Yeah." But he smiled.

"OK, take a right into this strip mall and park. I'll be in and out in a second. Ummm, OK, please help me out of this rocket ship of yours, Sarah. I forgot how I sit on the floor in it." She came around and helped him out and steadied him. "Please, baby, let me help you in, at least. I don't know what the." He silenced her with a hot kiss, ending it by sucking and nibbling on her lower lip. "No. Get back in the car, Sarah." She blinked at him, licked her lip and smiled. And got back in the car.

'I've discovered a secret compliance weapon in the battle against Sarah's way. Whoa!'

He walked as steadily and as slowly as he could and opened the door of the darkened shop named simply "Nathan's" in the window. He came out in less than 10 minutes with a small bag and a big smile.

Sarah got out of the car and helped her future husband, her fiancé, into the car. She was still getting used to this 'engaged stuff' but liked it immensely.

"Home, Sarah, and quickly, please. I really should have listened to you or spent another night in the abattoir. I'm suddenly so tired."

She glanced over at him and saw how pale he'd become and how he'd started to sweat. She debated driving to the hospital but decided home was closer. If something was wrong, the doctor could and would damn sure make a house call. She got out her phone and called Carina and Bryce to meet her and help her with Chuck.

Twenty minutes later and Chuck was in bed and Sarah Walker was on the phone with the doctor.

"He's sweating and asleep, doctor. No drainage and no staples torn. The wound is exactly as it was when we left. His temperature is 100.2 and he's asleep."

"Agent, that's to be expected. It should have been in the charge sheet of patient care you received when you left. If his temperature hits anything above 101.5, bring him in. If it spikes, call an ambulance. You can wash him off with a cool cloth and that should bring down his temp. He's fine, Agent Walker. This is a side effect of the surgery and the trauma."

* * *

By 7am he was fine. Sarah was not. She was lying beside him in bed, wearing his t-shirt and a frown. "Morning, Sarah. You mad at me?" "NO, yes, hell, Chuck, why was it so important to get that damned bag? You were almost out cold by the time we got home and you had a temperature and-and-and I was so scared, Chuck."

"Please bring me the bag, Sarah. You're a big party-pooper. A first-class no-fun-zone."

She went over to his dresser and brought him the bag. "Now, turn over and look the other way. Go ahead. Please, Sarah." She rolled over and unwittingly exposed a very shapely derriere. "You should always wear this, Sarah, always. Such a fine and firm fundament." He stroked her cheek with the tips of one hand and enjoyed her shudder and the goose bumps that appeared. "Chuck, don't start what you're not physically allowed to finish, please. That's just mean." She started to roll back over and face him but he stopped her.

"Stay. Please." He fumbled in the bag and opened up a small velvet bag and removed something and palmed it in his hand. The he took out two ring boxes and placed them on her bare hip.

"Now, you can open them, both of them."

She opened the smaller box and removed a platinum wedding band. "Look at the inscription, Sarah." She looked and realized she couldn't read it so she got up and walked over to her purse and turned and fixed him with a death glare. "Not one damned word, Charles, not one snicker, Chuck, not one raised eyebrow, Chuckles, not one giggle, snurgledurff or even a mean thought, understand me?"

He nodded. '_Oh, shit, this must be serious_.'

She turned back to her purse and opened it, removed a small case and walked briskly back to the bed. "Yes, Sarah, you should always and only wear my t-shirt." She realized that it was a lot shorter than she'd realized and she wasn't wearing her usual thong or Brazilian cuts. Oh, well, he'd seen it before. She lay back down on the bed with her back to him and again opened the small case and this time put on her glasses to read the inscription "_CHARAH". _

She rolled over and he saw her glasses but he saw the tears forming and he gently removed the glasses and kissed her. "I didn't do it to make you cry, Sarah." "I know, Chuck, I know. Can I put it on?" "Nope. We're not married yet. Well, OK, the Talley's are married so, yeah." "And can I put this one on you, Charles Talley, my cover husband?"

"Yeah." She did and it fit. White platinum bands, the wide ones. They made her fingers even more elegant looking. She held up his hand and admired his wedding band. Nice.

"Yours still looks…give me your hand for a sec, Sarah." She offered her hand and he held it and then slipped the palmed engagement ring up flush against the wedding band. Exactly as it should be.

"Oh, my God, Chuck. It's beautiful and it's, it's beautiful. I love it. I got to show Carina and we have to call Ellie and Art. Oh, my God, when, how, you were in the hospital? How?" She was trying to figure it all out.

"Had help. Lots of help. But don't I even get a kiss for this? I mean, Jesus, woman, I almost died getting this for you yesterday. You said yourself I was almo..." Warm, wet lips tasting of sunshine and a hot tongue attacked him. Her hand ventured south and he caught her wrist. Pulling away he mumbled "please, don't start what you know I can't finish, remember, Sarah?"

"Now go show Carina. But put on something to cover your ass-ets, please? I imagine Bryce still craves you. God, I know I do." She pulled on his boxers and fairly sprinted out the door. Chuck laughed and then sighed. He was getting married. He was getting old. She wore reading glasses. Another sigh.

Bored and alone, he did what he felt was only proper. He went to sleep.

Sarah had been pleasantly surprised by Carina's reaction. She'd expected either pure venom followed by some catty comment but instead she got a hug and big smile and best wishes.

Bryce's reaction was expected. "You know it'll never work out, Sarah. Oh, right now it's all sweetness and light but you and I both know this is a temp assignment. As soon as the intersect comes on-line he's…"

Sarah's reaction was totally inappropriate. The spinning sidekick caught Bryce in the solar plexis and she barely escaped the spew of whatever he'd eaten. She left him face-down on the floor after ensuring he didn't swallow his tongue. She planned on cutting it out some day.

'Chuck was so right. He is a RatBastard and I'll keep an eye on him. I'm sure Carina will, too. If he knew he was signing Chuck's death warrant, why did he send him the intersect? Maybe I should just kill him now and be done with it?' She vetoed that. No sense spoiling her 'engagement day' with interruptions by cleaners and investigating agents.

Carina took the opportunity to help her partner back to _her_ room. Poor baby. He only told Sarah the truth. No sense wasting a good crisis.

Sarah called Ellie next. She got voicemail so she left her a cryptic message to call her back regarding a change in her brother's status. She'd put a cloned chip into Ellie's phone when she was in Burbank when Chuck had been shot on nationwide television and didn't worry about eavesdroppers or the Carnivore program picking up key words, names or phrases. She was sure Ellie would call her back as soon as she got the message.

"Eleanor, do you know a Sarah Se-Cure or maybe Securie or something like it?"

"No, why?"

"She called you and left a voice mail."

"I'll get it later. Let's go. We're late and airport traffic is horrible and I don't want to miss our flight to Miami. We'll rent a car and drive down to Key West."

Sarah walked back into their bedroom and was pleased that Chuck was sleeping. He needed sleep to get back his strength. And he would definitely need his strength for what she planned. For the first time in a long time she missed not having a family. Art was in meetings, Cathy was gone, Ellie was out of touch and Carina, well, Carina was probably trying to set new records for pillaging her new partner. It hadn't even been 24 hours and she'd already dragged his carcass back to her lair. His unconscious carcass.

She smiled a secret smile and stripped off his boxers that she'd pulled on to go and announce her new status and got into bed beside her new fiancé. She could get used to this lifestyle. His amazing mind had created a wealth-machine for them. They could have lived quite comfortably with what she had in her bank prior to the creation of CharahCorp Int'l. But add in her share of the company and they could live a disgustingly decadent lifestyle and provide their children with everything they could possibly want or need. Children. She'd never dared to hope for children. She was afraid she'd suck as a mom but had faith that their father would make up for any shortcomings.

She snuggled up to him, ran a finger tip along his incision to make sure it was healing and not getting infected and then just enjoyed being with him. She knew his scent just as he knew hers but she couldn't put a name to it. Hers was clearly vanilla, and was produced by her shampoo, conditioner and a body wash she used only when she knew he would be within 'scent range'. She loved his love of her scent. He'd mentioned the 'change in her scent' when they'd danced the Tango in Sausalito on New Year's Eve a thousand years ago. Amazing.

She was almost asleep when her cell rang. The display read "Ellie Bartowski, secure". "Ellie, it's Sarah. Where are you? There's a lot of noise."

"Sarah, I'm in the airport waiting on a flight to Miami. I'm going on vacation. Is anything wrong? My flight's been delayed so I can book another flight if something's wrong."

"Miami? We're just north of there! Oh, are you changing planes in Miami? We'd love to come down and see you, if only for a few minutes, Ellie."

"No, I'm getting off in Miami and maybe going to rent a car and drive to the Keys. Maybe we could meet?"

"Eleanor Bartowski, there is no maybe here. I called to give you news about a change in Chuck's status. He's engaged, Ellie." She was looking forward to this.

"WHAT? To whom? When? Tell me all the details. Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry. I thought for sure you and Chuck, I mean after that horrible mess in Mexico, I guess you gave up on him, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, Ellie, but fortunately he didn't give up on me. I'm his fiancé. We're going to be sisters, Ellie. I get to have a real sister!"

Ellie's shriek brought security guards and a hasty explanation from Ellie. She looked at her watch and then at her tickets. "Sarah, we'll be there in three hours. Can you meet us there? Maybe we could go to dinner?"

"Horse shit, Eleanor Bartowski, you're coming up here at least for one night. We haven't seen you in forever and I know Chuck wants to see you. I know I sure do. Is that OK? One night, Ellie, just one night. For Chuck?" She pulled out all the big guns. Guilty Ellie was a compliant Ellie.

"Of course, but Sarah, I'm not alone. Is that a problem?"

"No, we have 3 extra bedrooms and no issues with your sexual persuasion, Dr. Bartowski."

"Sarah Walker, damn you, you know I'm straight. It's Devon Woodcomb, remember him from LA?"

"Yeah, I remember him. So are you two, y'know, like, um, together?" She stumbled around, not really sure of her grounding.

"Oh, Sarah, you sound so Valley Girlish…" She laughed and then continued. "I'm kinda engaged again, Sarah. Your therapist was a wonderful, mean, nasty bitch from Hell, but I think I'm going to be OK. Devon went to the last 3 sessions with me. He bought into a practice in Towson's Corners so we're practically neighbors. You saved my life, Sarah, thank you."

"Well. Chuck's saved mine a few times lately, so I suppose we're even."

"Is he hurt again, Sarah? Again? That 'don't think about it or die' stuff again?"

"Yep. Does Devon know? I mean it's a secure phone, Ellie, it's cool. I won't kill him or anything, At least not right away."

"NO! You said no one, and so no one it is. Not even the therapist. And boy did she hassle me about that secret."

"You could have told her, Ellie. She's ex-Agency. I thought I told you that? Oh, well, we'll probably need to get Devon cleared on it eventually. So, Chuck and I will buzz down and meet you and we'll have dinner at the house and you can meet up with two of the most disgusting humans I've ever had to work with, Carina and Bryce. So be prepared."

"That no good son of a bitch Larkin! I'll kill him, Sarah. Keep him and especially that poisonous skank of his well away from us. Damn, I thought the government had better sense. That narcissistic little prick…" Sarah started laughing.

"It's so nice to see we have common opinions, Ellie. Really. See you in a few hours." She then called Amelia and told her Chuck's sister was coming. "Could you please do something for dinner that would feed all six of us, please, Amelia? Please, for Chuck, please?"

"Of course, for the jefe, anything always. So when is he going to make a good woman of you? It is a sin to live with him. Why…" Sarah laughed. This was a friendly but perpetual battle between them. "Amelia, can you keep a secret? Good. We're engaged!"

A torrent of happy Spanish erupted and Sarah laughed and said "Thank you" and hung up.

Chuck was half awake listening and enjoying the sounds of a happy Sarah. He really hadn't heard any of the conversations, just the last one between Sarah and Amelia. Well, if she was happy all things must be in their place. He was thinking about sleep but Nature had once again blessed him with morning maleness and a full bladder.

"Sarah, please peel yourself off me and give me a hand. I need to use the facilities or it'll be CyberLogicals all over again."

She helped him up and then waited for the return trip. She was debating about telling him that Ellie was flying into Miami. She didn't think the trip would be good for him. The doctor did say bed rest and her Porsche was not a bed. Even taking one of the SUVs would be a taxing experience on him. He needed to know she was coming but also that he wasn't making the trip to pick her up.

"Chuck, I'm picking Ellie up at the airport and she's spending the night. You're not going with us, so don't start. You need your rest if you're going to put up with her Elliejoy. OK?"

"Works for me. I'm too tired right now. I think that doctor made a mistake and I'm a quart low still. Help me back to the bed and then do whatever it is that will make you happy. Let me know before you leave so I can shower and be dressed. No sense freaking her out with the latest addition to my 'war chest'."

She helped him back to bed and then lay down next to him. He was on his back with the sheet up to his waist. She looked at his chest. Really looked at it. There were the current line of staples. Then there was the slice across his stomach from the freighter and lastly there was the scar from her bullet that nearly ended them.

"Chuck, I'm going to see about buying some of that British ballistic cloth and getting you a few t-shirts made from it. I don't care about the cost. I have my own money. Please, an engagement gift from me to me, Chuck. I just really never noticed them before. Too many close calls, Chuck. And there are scars on your head and your back. Scars do not turn me on, Chuck. No more, please?"

"Didn't you tell me they were occupational hazards, Sarah? I didn't ask for them, you know?"

"Yeah, but I'm asking you please, no more. I just landed you and I want to have a lot of 'grow old together time'."

"Why don't you do some thing that doesn't involve keeping me awake, Sarah, please? I can't believe all I'm doing is sleeping."

"Sleep is good for you. It's the body's way of letting it concentrate on healing and not doing a lot of conscious stuff so yeah, sleep. I'll wake you before I leave with breakfast and coffee."

Two hours later she was ready to go and pick up Ellie and Devon. She'd already had words with Carina and Bryce. Bryce had suggested that he and Carina 'take the night off and maybe go down to Miami' but Sarah reminded him of their primary mission of protecting the intersect. "You two need to be here. There's no guarantee there won't be a repeat of the other night. Chuck and Art got the terrorists and their second-in-command but the commander is still out there somewhere and we know he's not alone."

Chuck's phone was chirping at him and he woke up stiff and sore but feeling somewhat better than he had earlier. He levered himself carefully out of bed and answered his phone.

"Talley, secure."

"Graham, secure. How you feeling, Chuck? Sarah called but I thought I'd check in with the man of the hour first. You're in bed, alone, right? You need rest, Chuck, not another mission so just take it easy, son. A week sitting in the sun will make a difference. Now, the NSC agreed with me after the other night's adventure. Both ships were 'lost at sea' due to mysterious explosions. Unfortunately the Coast Guard took quite a while to reach the scene. No survivors and no explanations. Key West looks to be off ground zero, Chuck. Your team performed exceptionally well and it's been noticed in the highest circles."

"What about the merc commander? He's still out there and probably has a cadre of hard-core true-believers with him. And I hope the NSA wizard who designed the actives get a raise. When will they be replenished?"

"Already done, Chuck, last night. All agencies have a watch on the merc. We'll catch him. You know, the other night, well, I haven't felt that alive in years, son. Was good to get back into a field situation, even after the fact. You know Sarah was seriously affected by that, Chuck, seriously. I thought I might lose two good agents, one to death and the other to a breakdown. When are you two going to…"

"Please, Director, talk to Agent Walker about that. It's not my place to comment on any events since I was unconscious at the time. Really, I have no idea what you're referring to so, please, talk with Agent Walker,"

Stubborn, hardheaded idiot. "Now listen to me, Chuck, you get yourself dressed, find my little girl and marry her, you idiot. You have a sanctioned marriage, boy. Don't miss the chance to make a little Agency history and make an old man happy. And don't get hurt again, damn you. Your medical bills are sinking my damned budget."

Chuck hung up on Arthur Graham and went back to sleep. All he did was sleep. He didn't need any pain pills, he just needed to sleep.

Arthur Graham called Agent Walker, not at all pleased with the situation in Lantana. She was as stubborn as an ox about some things. If last night's 'scare' and his lectures didn't bring her around he had no idea what to do.

"Walker, secure."

"Graham, secure. I see you called me this morning, agent. Anything wrong? The intersect's still intact and functional, right?" He'd keep this part of his conversation strictly professional.

"Yes, functional and sleeping. Too early to tell if the excessive blood loss affected his retention of data. You might suggest to him another refresher download just to make sure. No way to test it and he's not staying awake long enough to do much more than get engaged, so only time will tell."

"Fine. So what was…you said ENGAGED? To who? When? And when did he have time to form a relationship outside our knowledge? It's not sanctioned and it's definitely not going to happen. Find out who she is and all available background. She could be Fulcrum or some other faction. Damn that stubborn idiot. He's scheduled for relocation." Two could play the game.

"Relocation? When, where?"

"It was his request before things got…interesting, Agent Walker. He asked for new agents, not experienced ones, he said he was weary of dealing with all the baggage they came with. He asked that the old team be reassigned to "happier places". Go figure.

Well, you have your orders, Agent. As soon as you figure out who this mystery woman is, report and prepare for reassignment. If there's nothing else, Agent, I'll await your report."

"No, wait. It's ME! I'm the mystery woman. We're engaged. Don't you plan on any relocation, that's in the past. Please."

"Well, congratulations, baby girl. Oh, Cathy would be over the moon with joy, Sarah. I told Chuck last night she'd have had wedding planners working 24/7 on this. You would have made her so happy."

"Well, be happy for her, Art, and me. I am, finally. So, will you come?"

"Give me a little notice and I'll be there. Got to go. Be safe. And keep that idiot out of hospitals. He's killing my budget." And he was gone.

It dawned on her that he had manipulated the conversation to force her admission. And he probably already knew. That conniving old fart…

* * *

She went in to check on Chuck before she left and to get him up and at least started on getting dressed. She planned on taping a plastic bag over his incision and securing it with surgical tape but he was already up and in the shower. She opened the door and saw him leaning against the wall letting the hot water cascade down his body. She saw he'd already taped the bag on and was just enjoying the hot water.

"Chuck, I'm leaving now, so try and stay awake long enough to shave and dress. Nothing fancy, it's just Ellie and her boyfriend. I'm going now. Chuck? Did you hear me?" 'Was he asleep standing up? Was something wrong?'

"I heard you. I'm awake. I'm going to shave and get dressed, nothing fancy and I'll be down in a few minutes. Maybe shorts and a polo. Don't feel much like 'dressing up'; have a nice trip. Now go away, you're hair is falling…" He laughed. She wouldn't appreciate it but he liked pulling her chain. He had the rest of his life to find all those buttons and press every damned one of them.

"OK, but sit out on the verandah, Chuck, in the sun. You look pale as a ghost. I'll be back with Ellie in a few hours. Drink coffee, eat something, and stay awake, please? And don't listen to Larkin. He's jealous of our happiness and will do almost anything to sabotage it."

**Miami International Airport/I95 Northbound**

Once the hugs and kisses were dispensed with and the luggage retrieved, Ellie and Sarah walked arm-in-arm to the short term parking area leaving poor Devon to contend with the luggage. Luckily all had wheels.

They took their time getting to I95 and headed north towards West Palm Beach.

"So, have you two set a date yet, Ellie?" She was wondering about a double wedding in the Keys. She didn't know if Chuck wanted to have a long engagement or not. They'd already made love and lived together so it seemed rather academic to her.

"No, not really. Things are different now that we're on the East Coast. All our friends and family are out west so we're really not sure what our plans are. How about you and my brother?"

"Nope, no plans. We've only been engaged since this morning." She spent the next half hour telling Ellie how her brother had proposed and she'd said 'no' then some events happened that changed her thinking and he'd already anticipated it and been prepared. Ellie just laughed at her. "That's my little bro, always 2 steps ahead but missed the turn."

Sarah looked at Ellie and scowled saying "Ellie, your 'little bro' is 200 steps ahead and if he missed a turn it's because he didn't need to take it. You would do well to keep that in mind since you are living proof of his abilities. He predicted your re-engagement and also said it would only happen if he didn't move to the East Coast with you and the he," indicating a dozing Devin in the backseat, "moved back East."

Ellie frowned and wondered out loud "That's the Bartowski Process all the admins are raving about, isn't it? It's Chuck 'process of decision-making' program. That's his… Wow!"

Sarah beamed and said nothing. Nothing further needed to be said.

The drive up the Dixie Highway was intentionally the 'long way' and it also allowed Ellie and Devon to appreciate the seaside mansions that lined it. She was setting a stage for Chuck's accomplishments and having a great time doing it. Ellie was 'oohing and awing' while Devon sat and mentally calculated how many years he'd have to work to afford a place like this. Sarah had said Chuck had bought a small house near the beach and considering these mansions, he figured a small bungalow, probably smaller than the apartment back in Burbank.

Charah House sat on the highest mound of dunes along that stretch of highway. As the approached up the shallow grade Ellie said "Oh, Devon, look at that one! The second floor has a balcony overlooking the seashore and look at all the windows." Devon saw the pillars as Sarah pulled into the circular drive. 'Charah House' read the brass plate Devon noticed as they drove past the gate up the drive.

"Sarah, what's the name of Chuck's company again?"

**Charrah House  
****Lantana, FL**

EllieJoy almost killed Chuck. He'd made the mistake of seeing the SUV driving up the highway and decided to meet them at the stairs and greet them away from Carina and Bryce. When Sarah stopped the SUV at the bottom of the stairs, Chuck opened the door and caught an EllieHug totally unprepared. Her arms wrapped around her taller brother's torso and squeezed, unfortunately right along the wound.

"Ouch, Jesus, Ellie, let go!" He turned pale and held his sister at arm's length. He tried to smile and it was weak at best. "Chuck, what's wrong? Sarah, why didn't you tell me he was hurt again? Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry." She gently wrapped her arms around her brother and laid her head on his chest. Chuck looked at Sarah's stricken face and shrugged and sent her a 'no big deal' message with his eyes. She just nodded slowly and tried to remember where his pain pills were. He hadn't taken any this time around that she knew of and figured after this, it was time to start.

As they walked into the house Ellie just gaped. "Chuck, this is…yours?"

"Yep. Got a great deal on it, too. It was damaged by the hurricane and the last owner just abandoned it to the bank. They were damned glad to get it off their books. Why don't you let Sarah give you and Devon the tour, park the luggage in your… um, room or rooms, Ellie?"

She blushed and looked at Devon. "Room, Chuck, we're engaged, again."

Chuck just laughed and high-fived Devon. "See, all it took was a few visits to Baltimore and leaving L.A. and everything worked out just like I said, Devon. Oh, ye of little faith."

Devon just laughed, a little intimidated by this version of Chuck. He seemed…confident and comfortable in his new skin, so different from the needy Nerd who married Lynn, tried to suicide in the surf and was shot on national TV and then blown up on CNN and pronounced 'DOA', a real crispy critter.

"So, Chuck, this whole, um, thing here is Witness Protection, right? I mean Charles Talley is a cover name, right?"

Chuck sighed and looked at Sarah and she nodded, slowly. Chuck just chuckled. They'd just had an entire conversation in a 2 second exchange of looks. "Devon, let's take a walk out on the verandah and I'll try and explain some things to you about my, excuse me, _our_ life here." Sarah beamed a gigawatt smile and nodded again.

Over coffee and juice Chuck explained the events of the past 2 years, beginning with Lynn and ending with the other night's events. Devon drank his coffee and juice and then ate the light 'breakfast' Amelia set before them and never once said a word. However, his expression ranged from sad to extremely perplexed and finally on resigned.

"So, basically, if Ellie or I even think about this, we're dead or worse?" Chuck nodded, solemnly, then smiled. "Actually, no. Not really. You just can't talk about it to anyone except each other, and then only if you're alone, on a desert island with listening device jammers in place. And Ellie's on another island on the other side of the world." He laughed at the look on Devon's face and shook his head. _'What happened to his sense of humor'?_

"Devon, Sarah said you guys were going down to Key West by car. Ever considered going by boat, instead? I think the girls are sufficiently occupied with wedding crap that they won't miss us for an hour or two. There's someone I want you to meet."

**Two Georges Boat Dock  
****Boynton Beach, FL**

Devon drove the SUV down the Dixie Highway to Boynton Beach. Chuck directed him to the Two Georges dock and had him park the car. "Careful, here, Devon. Footings a mite treacherous if you're not careful."

They made their way to the pier and Chuck noticed Murphy on a piling. "Hey, Murph, haul your fat pelican ass over here and meet my brother, Devon." The pelican recognized Chuck and hopped down off the pilings and waddled over, expecting a treat or a scratch.

"Devon, this is Murphy, my buddy. He got hurt and couldn't eat so I got him fixed up and now he terrorizes Carl's lunch sessions but the tourists love him. Go ahead, give him a scratch." Devon reached over and Murphy hopped closer to Chuck, not willing to trust the new human. Chuck laughed and scratched the bird's head and then under his wing. "Fat bastard. Too many tourists feeding you. You'll never fly again if you don't get off this dock."

Devon laughed, enjoying this new side of Chuck. A lot more earthy and realistic and not so prone to self-pity and confusion. Sarah had done wonders for the boy. Personally, he wondered what a looker like her found so attractive in Chuck but dismissed her as a gold-digger knowing she had money of her own. Must be love then.

"Later, Murph. Go harass some Canadians. They're always polite and they'll feed you." Signaling Devon that he should follow him, Chuck walked down the line to the _Sarah's Smile._

"How would you and Ellie like to accompany Sarah and I on a trip to Key West, bro? You don't get seasick, do you? I know Ellie doesn't."

After a tour of the boat and a quick explanation of how things worked, he asked Devon again. "Well, want to come with us?" "Oh, yeah. Wow. Yeah. Ellie will flip."

"Good. I'll start the engines and you stand by to cast off and we'll take the waterway back to the house. I've got a pier set across the highway from the house. Carina or Bryce can come fetch the SUV when they need it."

**Charah House  
****Lantana, FL**

An hour later the Sarah's Smile was docked and Devon and Chuck had walked back into the house. Neither Ellie nor Sarah had noticed their absence. Devon got more coffee and joined the two chattering magpies while Chuck went off in search of a pain pill and Bryce.

"Bryce, I left the SUV down at the Georges dock so if you need it, have Carina run you down there, OK?" He nodded and then grinned. "Brought the boat back, didn't you? Going to surprise Ellie or shock her?" He laughed. He had known his sister since their freshman year at Stanford. He also knew to keep out of her sight for as long as possible.

"Going to head down to Key West and then back. We'll probably just drop them off and do a turn-around. Nothing's on the books and I'm supposed to be 'bed resting' so it won't much matter how I spend the week. You and Carina enjoy whatever strikes your fancy, but stay out of my room, Bryce. NO Jacuzzi parties, got it?"

Bryce grinned, remembering a party he and Chuck had at Stanford that involved Mr. Bubbles and a Jacuzzi and a couple of ladies. He chuckled and nodded to his friend. He knew he was thinking of the same thing. "Nope, no Mr. Bubbles, Chuck, promise."

Chuck's phone chirped and he answered when he saw it was Graham. Well, so much for his plans. "Talley, secure."

"Graham, secure. Just called to see how things are working out with you and Sarah. Any progress there?"

"You know, for an intelligence chief, you are woefully inept at being naïve, Art. I know Sarah told you we are engaged. But I certainly appreciate whatever you did last night. It scared her right into my arms. Devious bastard. Right devious. So are you going to come to the wedding? Assuming you don't get me killed between now and then."

There was silence on the line for a few more seconds that his comment would normally cause.

"Chuck, you know either you or Sarah could be called upon to make the sacrifice, Chuck. It comes with the job, Agent Talley, as you well know. But no, nothing looming on the horizon for the next few weeks. Please stay out of the hospital, Talley, you're killing my budget. I'll be there when you got married, Chuck, never fear."

They went over the proposed Key West trip and Graham had no problems with it. That ended the conversation but started another one with Sarah.

"Chuck, you can't handle a trip like that. It's too soon and you're still healing. I love the idea, baby, but no, absolutely not. I want you healthy and ready for us to start our new life together. And I can't stand seeing you in pain, and you would be, Chuck. No, I have to say 'no' and put my foot down, Chuck. Too dangerous for you. And probably too painful, also. So no. NO! Don't try those eyes on me. Won't work, Bartowski."

They would leave the next morning as soon as everyone had had breakfast. Those eyes worked almost every time.

Chuck napped until dinner. Ellie had been very obvious in her attempts to avoid mothering him figuring Sarah was hassling him about taking care of himself. However, she finally succumbed to her instincts as sister and doctor and immediately before dinner went to his room and asked to see his latest 'injury'.

"Oh, Chuck. My God that must have hurt. A knife again? You really should listen to Sarah, Chuck, and wear a vest. Maybe one of those 'ballistic' thingies you had on at the Museum? Are you taking pain pills again? Be careful, little brother, remem…"

He placed a finger on her lips and smiled down at her. "Ellie, I couldn't wear a vest because I was swimming my laps. Secondly, yes, it was a knife but if I hadn't done what needed to be done, you wouldn't have been able to go to Key West. Picture Sarajevo but move it to Florida. And lastly, yes, occasionally, but like maybe once a day, no more. Now, let me finish dressing and we'll see what amazing meal Amelia has prepared. I'm hungry and I hope you are, too. Now, scoot and let me finish dressing."

Ellie walked back down stairs wondering how her little brother had suddenly become so…so worldly and self-controlled. Where was the bumbling nerd who married Lynn? What happened to the rambling boy who first met Sarah Walker. When did he turn into a grown-up? Had he been this way all along and needed just the right situation and people to become… Charles Talley?

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair, probably due to the presence of Carina and Bryce. Devon was probably uncomfortable because of his one-time adventure with Carina and Bryce was uncomfortable because Ellie was fingering her razor-sharp steak knife and looking longingly at his throat. She hated Bryce for Stanford and now she hated him for his involving Chuck in the CIA.

Both Carina and Bryce made themselves scarce after dinner and the remaining four talked about life in general and a few specifics like Devon's practice, Ellie's plans for after Johns-Hopkins and Chuck and Sarah's amazing new life and love.

Chuck looked at the big clock over the fireplace and went over and set the security system for passive/night. A series of 3 escalating chimes sounded throughout the residence confirming the setting. Ellie raised and eyebrow and Devon just looked interested.

"Better safe than sorry. If you leave the house, use the French doors on the verandah and don't leave the verandah and don't ever open the front door. Understand?" Their guests nodded.

"Ellie, we're not in a pleasant business and sometimes people target us like the other night when Chuck was injured." She spent a quick five minutes giving them a sanitized version of that night's events. Very sanitized.

"Chuck, you want to live like this? A prisoner in your own home?" Ellie looked very upset. "No, we're not prisoners, we're more like protectors with a number of antagonists who have to be dealt with legally and within the system of laws. It's when they go outside the system that we become involved, literally. It's for the best, Ellie."

After more coffee and less controversial conversation and considering the early departure time, the two couples said goodnight and went to their respective bedrooms.

"Chuck, you handled Ellie very well this evening. I'm very proud of the way you dealt with all their questions. I'm sure she feels a lot better about things now. I know Devon does although I think he's a little afraid of you. Especially after Ellie described your 'cut' from the other night in medical terms. So, let's shower and get ready for another day in paradise. Even if it rains and we have earthquakes and rains of toads, Chuck, it's still paradise being here with you."

"Jesus, Sarah, you've been sneaking peeks at Carina's Harlequin Novels again, haven't you?"

A naked Sarah Talley walked into the shower area deliberately swaying her hips in a style mocking Carina's. "I need help washing my back, big boy. Are you up to the task or are you too tired?" She grinned, well, more appropriately, leered, at him. She loved playing with his mind. He was so gullible sometimes.

Oh, she was going to get it, but not tonight. His mind was screaming at him but he ignored it knowing what he could not physically do, and his mind said "DUDE, are you NUTS?"

Sarah was disappointed but also a little ashamed of herself for teasing him when he was told not to be 'active' for a bit. She'd make it up to him.

Chuck was asleep on his back when Sarah came to bed. It had been a long day for him and she could tell he hadn't been taking any pain meds after the one time when EllieJoy nearly killed him. She curled up against him with her head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat and was soon soothed into a deep sleep.

* * *

Chuck woke up with the sound of the night passive chimes in his ears. He slept through the warning! He looked over and saw that Sarah's side of the bed was empty so he pulled on his boxers and struggled into a t-shirt and ran to the gun safe and keyed the emergency code. He took out a 9mm Browning Highpower he didn't remember seeing before and then ran down the hall to the staircase just as explosions racked the first floor almost collapsing the staircase.

Ellie and Devon were nowhere to be found but Carina's body was draped across the couch, most of her legs missing and Bryce was lying on the floor, at least he thought it was Bryce since all he had to go on was a torso minus head and one arm and leg. He could not find any trace of Sarah.

He walked over to the blown-open French doors and went out onto the verandah. There were bodies strewn about, some of them he flashed on and some he didn't. They appeared to be Yemeni mercs, part of the group that had attacked the past night. He still couldn't find Sarah although from the bodies he knew she'd been their source of death. A single shot between the eyes, just like she'd done to Bruno.

There was a blood trail leading to the hothouse and he followed it warily. Someone had stumbled, fallen and then crawled into the hothouse leaving the door ajar. He slipped in and froze, listening for signs of the intruder. He heard a sigh and walked toward the source. He found his Sarah, dead.

He sat up in bed drenched in sweat. His heart was racing like he'd run a marathon. He felt around frantically for Sarah but couldn't find her. Was it a dream or was this the dream? Was he still asleep? Where was Sarah?

He stumbled to the walk-in closet and keyed the combination and took out his M1911 and 2 extra magazines, threw on a pair of boxers and checked out the bathroom to make sure she wasn't in there and then walked out of the master suite and onto the little-used balcony-verandah. He looked out over the beach and saw nothing amiss. He walked down the back staircase to the kitchen and walked into the living room and found Sarah and Ellie talking. Ellie caught sight of him, hair askance and weapon held in a two-handed stance and shrieked.

From the look on his face and in his eyes Sarah knew he was either just awake from a terrific nightmare or still in one. It happened from time-to-time and was one reason she watched his intake of pain pills. She remembered Burbank and the awful outcome.

She walked up to him and gently pushed the gun away from his sister and took it from his hands. He lowered his arms and she reached out and hugged him. His arms went around her automatically and he put his head down on top of hers and whispered "Is this the dream or is this really happening? I've found you dead once already tonight. Please, not again, Sarah."

"This is real, Chuck. I got hungry and ran into Ellie on the same mission and we just sat and talked. It's OK, Chuck, really, this is real, not a dream. I'm alive and you're holding me and Ellie's OK, too. Let's get back to bed. OK? Ellie and I were finished talking anyways. We'll have the whole week to catch up on the boat, right? So, come on back to bed, Chuck. It's OK, really."

She put Chuck back to bed on his uninjured side and curled up against him, as much of her touching him as she could manage. He was still trembling even though he was nearly asleep. She had hoped he'd be spared these dreams but apparently it was not to be. Her arms went around him and she pushed a thigh between his. She rubbed slow and soft circles through the hair on his chest until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast Chuck was quiet and from the look on Devon's face, he knew pretty much everything that had transpired a few hours earlier. Both Sarah and Ellie had a light breakfast and then went to finish their packing. Chuck sat drinking coffee and pushing his eggs around his plate. After a few minutes he sighed, finished his coffee and then went up to see if Sarah needed any help.

Carina walked out of her room wearing shorts and a t-shirt. After a discussion with Graham she was walking on eggs. Last night Bryce had used the time-honored 'we may all end up like Chuck, dead' ploy to get her between the sheets but her mind was on how badly she wanted just one more night with Chuck. She'd never get over him. She supposed that eventually she'd succumb to the Larkin Leer but only after making him suffer for his comments about Chuck's future.

"Hey, Devon, how's East Coast life? Big change from L.A. and the Left Coast, isn't it?" She was trying to be nice.

"Yeah. People are a lot more intense here, less laid back. I figure with all the stress and high-speed life style a cardiologist will make a fortune here." They both laughed at the comment and the truth.

"So, you and Ellie got back together? Good for you. You two are so right together. I'm happy for you."

"And you and Chuck? That couldn't have ended well for you, Carina, but he's with the one he was always meant to be with. Lynn, well, she was sweet but she never loved him like Sarah does. Maybe towards the end, after they found out she was pregnant but not really before. Oh, they were happy, at least Chuck was. But her? I don't know. It always seemed really structured with her. She had issues that Ellie told me about. Scary issues."

Carina knew that Lynn Kimble Bartowski had gone beyond the pale for Chuck. She could understand it and empathize with her. Marrying for the job? She didn't think she had it in her. She would always compare everyone to Chuck and unless she was granted a miracle she knew she didn't deserve, she wouldn't find anyone she could love like she did him.

She also knew that if she got a T/O on Chuck she would not do it. Could not do it. And would stand with him in fighting it. She only hoped Sarah would do the same. Accepting a terminal assignment and then marrying the mark/asset knowing you were going to have to pull the trigger some day? No way could she ever do that.

It was obvious to any one that Sarah really loved Chuck but she had accepted the T/A knowing this asset was different and would have to be put down someday. She didn't know if she could be that cold and still be a human being.

"Devon, Chuck is a marvelous guy and I envy Walker but I also pity her. You'll never understand it so don't worry about it. Forget I said anything. I-I-I'm sorry. I should never have said anything about her. Please don't mention it. Especially to Chuck. It would just upset him or worry him."

Devon nodded but immediately saw that she was hiding something that upset her tremendously when the subject of Sarah entered the conversation. Why would she envy her and pity her? What was going on here? He needed to talk to Ellie about this. After last night, he knew he could never have this conversation with his little almost-bro. He scared the shit out of him.

End GreenEyedGirl18a


	19. Key West Karma Havana Jill Bryce

GreenEyedGirl19

_A/N: I will finish the unfinished and unlamented Pole Dancer saga. The ending is exactly as it was intended to be from the start if any of you had bothered to read the first sections carefully._

_I have one chapter left on this and then it's done and so am I._

_Armor-Plated-Rat  
28July2009  
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* * *

  
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**Charah House Landing**

Lantana, FL

**9am**

Bryce and Devon helped load the provisions for the trip. The freezer was stuffed and the propane reefer was packed with almost everything anyone could want. The three igloo coolers of beer were for Chuck and Devon, mostly Chuck who had an aversion to hard liquor considering his father and sister's 'ignored' weaknesses. He also packed a lot of sodas and juice hoping Ellie would not indulge and become the Bitch of Burbank again.

Sarah had asked them to load the trip provisions as a favor to Chuck since he was still not supposed to be out and about and lifting those provisions might have caused him to tear his incision.

After everyone had eaten breakfast and filled up on coffee, goodbyes were said all around. Carina gave Devon a sisterly hug and whispered "Please don't mention our conversation to Sarah, I don't want to spoil your vacation with unnecessary drama."

That ensured that Devon would discuss it with Ellie.

The four boarded the _Sarah's Smile_ and Chuck asked Sarah to take the helm. Her smile told him it was the 'right' thing to do. He planned on minimizing his physical activities as much as possible so that he could heal more quickly and begin actively pursuing his fiancée all over every flat surface (and a few that probably weren't). He'd always wondered about joining the 'flying bridge' club and now was his opportunity. Well, he was a guy, after all.

Chuck had taught all three of the others the basics of steering, recognizing channel buoys, using the alternate helm controls and all the basic emergency procedures, including use of the fire bottles in the engine compartment. Devon thought it was 'overkill' but both Ellie and Sarah paid rapt attention to his instructions.

Chuck spent 30 minutes sitting next to Sarah on the bench seat of the flying bridge going over the autonav system and also showing her the GPS beacon, weather, radio, radar and nav systems. When he was certain she could handle it he announced 'nap time' and went below decks. He opened the transom windows and let the cool rush of sea air put him to sleep. He was being careful not to push himself or give Ellie any reason to abort the trip or just plain nag him.

Sarah was enjoying herself, much more than she thought she would. She was actually dreading being in the boat for the two or three days Chuck planned on taking getting to Key West.

She was afraid she'd be bored. She was not into sun worshipping (not with her Nordic skin and hair coloring although she'd changed into a bikini top and shorts as soon as they'd reached what Chuck called 'open water'. Now she'd already decided that they would spend every free moment on the _Sarah's Smile_ as much as weather and missions allowed. It was as private as they could be in their line of work. A phone call and a world away from the spy life.

She debated about removing the canvas 'bonnet' that protected the occupants of the flying bridge from the sun but decided against it. She didn't want to spend her vacation with severe sunburn and be unable to cuddle and do other things with her fiancé. She loved the word and the intent it held. As he became more 'mission critical' she would have more to worry about from danger standpoint but much less from an agency threat.

Ellie and Devon were enjoying the sun sitting on the bench seats at the stern above the transom works. Both were wearing swimsuits but Ellie's bikini barely covered her and she was debating going up on the foredeck and lying on the mat there and 'losing the top'.

She missed the sun in Baltimore most of all. It was not her favorite place and Maryland was fast becoming DC-North and the congestion and rudeness of the people were taking its toll on her normally bright attitude. She and Devon had talked about moving further out and just living with the commutes. She was considering a general practice in a rural area since doctors were in such short supply. Decisions could wait, though. They were on vacation.

Chuck woke a little after 1pm and wandered into the galley to find something to eat. He knew Amelia had packed them a 2-day picnic lunch and he hadn't had time to check it out. He fixed both Sarah and Ellie a quick Cuban salad with finely shaved pork slices and took it up to them. He figured Devon could and would fend for himself.

He sat next to Sarah and watched her eat, enjoying this quiet time together. He reached over and bumped the speed up a bit since their location was slipping behind the trip curve he'd planned. The seas were only running about two feet and the _Sarah's Smile_'s bow cut through them like butter for a smooth and relaxing cruise. They were well out of the sea-lanes and had little chance of colliding with much more than a school of flying fish. Later he'd see if Devon wanted to fish. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the day.

Chuck lathered sunscreen on Sarah's face with particular attention to her nose. He'd brought her a baseball cap to protect her face from the reflected sun. Her dark glasses ensured the 'raccoon look' and he smiled in anticipation. He put his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss into her neck and put more sunscreen on her shoulders. She could worry about the other places when she was done eating. He just sat back to enjoy the day.

Sarah looked over at the man she was going to be spending the rest of her life with and wondered if 40 years was going to be enough. Chuck had adopted one of the few habits Carina had that she approved of: wringing the most out of every day. And he'd made her follow his example and she was so glad she did.

The old Sarah would never have agreed to a watery 'road trip' to the Keys. The old Sarah would have sulked and complained about the waste of time going by boat when they could be there in her Porsche in less than 4 hours. The old Sarah would have made this trip hell for Chuck. Thank God the old Sarah had been lost along the way.

"Chuck, about getting married…?" She could feel him tense up and wished she'd waited until they were in bed together. "Chuck, I don't want a long engagement, honey. I've been waiting for you all my life. I don't want to be a fiancé any longer than absolutely necessary, OK? I want to be Mrs. Chuck Talley without a lot of delay, OK?"

He just grunted and stared out at the horizon. He didn't smile or frown, just stared out as if she hadn't said anything to him at all.

"Chuck, say something, baby. Don't go all cold and silent on me."

"How about when we get to Key West? Soon enough for you? I can change course and be in Miami but we'll miss the judge by 7 hours. Either way, the day after tomorrow is the soonest I can manage, Sarah."

"I want Art there, Chuck, he's all the family I got except for you and Ellie and Devon and, sadly, Carina. How about a beach wedding at our house, Chuck. Before Ellie and Devon have to go back? Nothing fancy, just the people we have who are close to us."

"OK, but I want to invite 3 guests if that's OK with you, Sarah."

"Sure. Who?"

"Morgan and his new wife, Anna Wu, and Murphy."

"Anna Wu? She's the one who offered you a pity screw after Lynn died, Chuck. Her?"

"She's 'family' to me, Sarah, so yeah. And definitely Morgan. He's like a little brother and he has run our company and made us freaking rich. And Murphy, because, well, he's the reason I'm here in Lantana. I couldn't leave until I was sure he could survive on his own, just like I hung in there with Ellie. I don't abandon the people I love, pelicans either."

"Can you get Murphy to wear a tie?" She laughed and hugged him, loving him a little bit more than she did earlier this morning and less that she would tomorrow.

"No, but he absolutely hates Carina so he's got to stay on the bride's side." They both laughed at that.

"Hey, Ellie, when do you guys have to be back?" Sarah shouted down to Ellie. "I'm getting married as soon as possible and I want to do it before you guys head back to Iceland." She knew Ellie hated the weather up there and took every opportunity to rub it in. Florida was a lot better than California from her perspective.

That evening they ate out on the well deck, enjoying the evening breeze. They could see the lights of Miami well off in the distance. Chuck wanted to set the NavSys and cruise through the night but he could see that the idea of using an autopilot in the open ocean made the others nervous. He decided to find a quiet anchorage and spend the night. The batteries were fully charged from the day's cruising so A/C and lights would not be a problem.

* * *

Two hours later they were tied off to a span of the Overseas Highway and settled down for the night.

Sarah lay on her back looking up through the transom windows at the stars. This far from civilization there were an incredible number. "Chuck, how are you feeling after being up almost all day? You've been very quiet. Hardly spoke at all since dinner."

"I'm fine. I'm just taking it all in. This is the most relaxed and happy I've seen Devon and Ellie in, well, actually, ever. That therapist worked a miracle. And you, Sarah. Tell me you're not happier than you've been in a while. You seem so relaxed and I don't know, 'unworried'?"

She slid a hand up under his t-shirt and began rubbing small circles on his chest. She loved running her fingers through his chest hair and would never tire of it. It relaxed her in some ways and aroused her in others. "I'm as happy as I think I've ever been and I'm 'unworried' because you're here and safe and we're together and what could I be worried or unhappy about?"

"Chuck, can we have sex if I do all the work?"

"No, Sarah, we can not have sex." She was quiet, a little put-off by his response but she understood his reluctance to do much physically.

"We can make love, Sarah, not have sex. I told you before and you've apparently forgotten." And he rolled onto his uninjured side and pulled her to him and held her face in his hands and laid a hot steamy kiss on her, tongue pillaging and all. He thought he heard her whimper and when he slipped a hand up inside her t-shirt and cupped her breast and felt her erect nipple he knew she understood the difference.

They tried to be as quiet as possible knowing that Ellie and Devon were in the berths not 15 feet from them, until they heard Ellie's shout and Devon's groan and then they just laughed and let whatever happened happen.

Sometime later a sweaty but satisfied Sarah found herself lying on him, her legs straddling him and her curls brushing his thigh. She knew he was dozing and she wanted to let him sleep but she wanted to go up on the flying bridge and make love again. She was becoming a wanton woman and she loved it. She would never have dreamed of such a thing before Chuck. Now her imagination was free to roam without fear of judgment. As he said, he knew her 'warts and all' and he still wanted to marry her.

"Chuck, Chuck, wake up, sweetheart, wake up for me. I want to go up on deck, Chuck."

"Well, there's the door or you can go out the hatch. Be careful. You swim like a brick, Walker, a nicely shaped brick, but a brick, nonetheless," he mumbled, half awake, and "wear a life preserver, Sarah. Please."

"Chuck, I want to make love on the flying bridge, please? Chuck? Come on, baby, let's do it." She breathed her words into this ear and ran the tip of tongue around it. "Please?"

Chuck's eyes snapped open and he grinned. There is a God! Thank you! "Let's go out the transom hatch. No sense waking Ellie or Devon." He grinned in the darkness, seeing her naked outline against the transom windows.

They climbed up to the flying bridge and it's bench seat. Chuck sat down and Sarah straddled him. The motion of the waves coupled with the cool breeze made things perfect for them. Afterwards, they fell asleep, just as they'd been when they'd reached fulfillment.

The blare of the horn of the passing 18-wheeler woke them at 5:30am. Apparently the driver liked what he saw. So did the other truckers who also blew their horns. Sarah was mortified but Chuck just laughed. She climbed down and slipped through the transom hatch into their stateroom. Chuck followed her and was surprised to see her sitting on the bed laughing. He expected embarrassment at the very least. How he loved his Sarah.

"Chuck, next time, let's set an alarm or something. I'd like to try that in some waves. Would you? It would be intense. Just the two of us in a storm with big waves… wow, Chuck. This boat is making me a loose woman". And they both laughed.

"Well, we really haven't explored all the possibilities of the Jacuzzi back at Charah House yet, Sarah. We have as long as we want so let's just take life as it comes. Wring the hell out of each day, Sarah. Each day."

"How's your incision healing? Let me take a look. Don't want anything going wrong with you. I feel guilty as it is. You probably should not have done what you did last night in your condition, sweetheart, at least not four times." Her grin made any pain Chuck might have felt fly away.

"I'm fine. Let's wake the other two sex maniacs and eat a quick breakfast and head down to Key West. I want to get there before dark. Would you like to get a hotel room, Sarah, or sleep on the boat? Whatever you want, babe."

"Well, I'd like a tub soak after last night. Maybe a nice shampoo in a shower then a nice soak with you holding me like we did at …" She frowned, not wanting to remember anything about Site 7a.

"Hey, it's OK. That's in the past. Wring each day, Sarah. I remember some nice things from there."

"Yeah, probably. So, let's get moving, Chuck. Daylight's wasted sitting here."

He laughed. "Sarah, better check out the mirror in the head." Raccoon Sarah.

He started to giggle and then just lost it when she shrieked. Ellie banged on the door sleepily demanding to know if Chuck was all right. "It's OK, Ellie. She just discovered her 'tan lines' from yesterday." He opened the door and laughed again. Raccoon Ellie.

"Well, she sounded a lot like the skank and for a second I wondered if she'd stowed away somehow." She turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall of the berth area. Her shriek sounded exactly like Sarah's.

Devon leaped out of the berth at the sound and saw Ellie. He went from shock to surprise to gut-busting laughter in about a second. "Nothing for you tonight, Devon. Nothing. I mean it. You're cut off." Devon couldn't stop laughing. "And tomorrow night and the next night, too."

Chuck went up and set the navs, started the engine, disconnected the batteries to recharge and cast off and set course and speed for Key West, 78 miles away.

* * *

Ellie and her brother were sitting at the auxiliary helm and Ellie was examining his wound. "These staples can come out in a day or two. See, the 'scabbing' around the staple? It means they need removed so the holes can heal along with the wound. The doctor who did this was very good, Chuck, very good. A local?"

"Don't know, Ellie. Have no idea where I was and still don't. Talk with Sarah about that. I was down when I got there and really doped when I left. I could have been in Pakistan for all I know. Ask Sarah. She's the one who threatened the chopper crew with death if she couldn't ride along. That's what I was told, anyway."

"Chuck, Carina said something really strange to Devon yesterday morning at breakfast. She said she really envied Sarah but pitied her for what she'd have to do. What did she mean, Chuck? She got really upset then and started to tear up and asked Devon not to mention anything to you because she didn't want you to worry or be upset. Chuck, what's going on here, really?"

"Ellie, what's going on is that I've met the other half of me and I'm marrying her as soon as possible and that's all I know or care about. Carina Hansen would try anything to spoil my relationship with her sister. Don't believe a word that comes out of her mouth. I don't."

"Her _sister_? That skank is Sarah Walker's _sister_? You knew that when you were off screwing her and Sarah took you back and now you both have to work with her? How screwed up is that, Chuck. Her own sister?"

"Foster sister, and I didn't know it and there's no love lost between them. Foster sister. That's all. And she's an agent just like Bryce, Sarah and me, Ellie. And yeah, it's screwed up but that's the way I have to play this hand I was dealt. Make the best of it."

"Y'know, I almost felt sorry for her for a minute. But not now. Thanks, little brother, for putting my mind at ease." She kissed his cheek and went to find Sarah and talk to her about the hospital Chuck had been in. It looked like a place she could learn more trauma techniques.

* * *

"Sarah, I was looking at Chuck's incision and…" "What, is it infected? Oh, my God, I knew I was pushing him. I'm sorry, Ellie, he needs to get to a hospital. Now! I won't risk losing him now." She rushed up the companionway and saw Chuck sitting calmly at the helm control. "Chuck Talley, get this piece of wood in gear and make for the nearest hospital. You stupid idiot. You should have told me it was infected or bothering you. Stupid. Well, don't look at me, look out there and get a move on."

"Sarah, I told you to wear your hat in this sun. Now look, you've gone and fried your blonde brain and you know how that will affect you. Calm down and go talk to Ellie. I'm busy right now. And this 'piece of wood' is a finely crafted sea-going vessel made in the days when craftsmanship meant something. So power down, cool your jets, take a chill pill, maintain, whatever. Talk to Ellie, Sarah, and get her to check you for sun-induced dementia."

Sarah's jaw dropped. She rushed over to him and made him stand up and show her his wound. It looked exactly as it had the previous day, only better.

"But Ellie said, I mean, she said she looked at your incision and…I guess I overreacted Chuck. I'm sorry. But I-I-I…" she started to tear up. Chuck grabbed her into an intense embrace pinning her arms to her sides and whispering, "Overreact any time you think it's necessary, my blonde goddess, just like I will. It's a measure of our love and devotion. Well, yours. It's a measure of my basic insecurities and fear of being abandoned but that's a whole 'nother conversation, Sarah. Go back and see what Ellie was going to say. I'm fine, really."

'Blonde goddess? Oh, he's so gone, my Chuck.' She smiled and walked back down to the galley and sat back down. "Sorry, overreacted."

"Anytime, Sarah. You did the right thing but should have waited until I was finished. I wanted to know the name of the hospital because the work I saw done was incredibly precise and enhanced his healing. This cutter is first rate and I wanted to maybe meet him and see about a job. I'm in Trauma Medicine now. Very rewarding, Sarah."

"Ellie, he's the strangest little man you'll ever meet. Very grounded. Told me not to freak out if it got a little weepy but to freak out if it got red and angry or his temp spiked. Easy guy to talk to but a little spaced out. I'll get you an interview. It's a public hospital but some 'need to know' stuff gets done there."

"Cool. Now, Carina was upset and said to Devon that she was happy for you but pitied you too, for what you might have to do. What's up with that?"

Coldly and with as hard a face as Ellie had ever seen on her, Sarah said "Nothing. She's jealous and trying to hurt us, that's all." _Bitch wants Ellie to ask Chuck and he'll ask me and figure it's either a T/O or a terminal assignment if I don't answer or explain. I'm sorry, my love, but someone is going to die.  


* * *

_They reached Key West at 5pm and Ellie and Devon opted to get a hotel room for the duration of their stay. Firstly, they didn't want to 'intrude' on Chuck and Sarah and secondly, Ellie wanted a bath and thirdly, well, Ellie was never good with mechanical devices or their instructions and managed to get the pressurized head to flush up. Big mess.

When Ellie mentioned the bathtub Chuck looked at Sarah who looked up at the flying bridge and an immediate consensus had been reached, no hotel.

They found a slip that would take the _Sarah's Smile_, hooked up to shore-based electricity and powered down the generator and set the batteries on recharge. Chuck helped Devon and Ellie with the luggage and got them a jitney cab and they agreed to meet at the 'Sloppy Joe' at 8:30pm.

"Well, Sarah, we'd better get ready. I want you to wear long pants, babe, and the nights here get cool after 10pm and we'll be walking back here maybe later. I'd take a sweater or a windcheater also. You can go all Yuppie and tie it around your shoulders if you want."

"Chuck, it's only 6pm and we aren't meeting Ellie and Devon until 8:30 and I really don't feel like sightseeing right now. Want to take a nap? You've been going full blast all afternoon. I want you hale and hearty tonight, not falling asleep at dinner. Maybe just an hour? Please?"

"Fine, nagging me already. But I am tired. Set the alarm and join me?" He didn't want to sleep alone for some reason.

"OK, but no funny business. Sleep, Chuck. That's it. Nothing more."

* * *

Sloppy Joe's is a landmark in Key West. Supposedly Earnest Hemingway drank here – a lot back in the day. He wondered if suggesting this place had been a mistake because of Ellie's drinking problem but thinking back over the last two days he'd never seen Ellie drink anything alcoholic. And he was ashamed not to have noticed it and vowed to congratulate her this evening.

He hadn't seen Sarah when she went 'all out'. The woman, nay, the vision, who stepped out onto the pier in Key West and took his hand was stunning. She wore a loose-fitting blouse the exact shade of blue as her eyes when she's angry and white slacks and those strappy sandals some guys with foot fetishes think are incredible – and her hair was in a tight bun and her makeup… Chuck immediately suggested they return to the boat and to hell with his sister and Devon.

"Sarah, forget them. Let's go back to the boat and let me spend the night ravishing you. Wow, girl, you clean up really nicely. I mean, uh, well, damn, woman, I just…" and he kissed her. Not an ordinary kiss but one that left her weak and gooey-centered and seriously considering his offer.

She blinked when the kiss ended. She couldn't move anything else. And if she did move, well, hell she kissed him this time, really kissed him.

"I'll make you a deal, Charles Talley. If you can hold out through dinner, and believe me when I say it'll be a challenge for both of us, we'll get a room somewhere and not leave until this delicious feeling is a sweet memory. And Chuck, I have a long memory. Please, for me, Chuck, eat then make nice with Ellie and Devon then find a room and make me forget my name. I can move now, Chuck. Your lips should be registered as lethal weapons."

"Deal. But which name are you going to forget? Zelda? LaKeisha? Olga? Rachel? Amie? Renata, Gertrude, Karen, Kellie, Kimberly, Jenny, Anastasia…? That's a tall order, whateveryournamereallyis."

"Feed me, smart ass, and then we'll see. Oh, you forgot 'Drusilla, Evelyn, Lena, Maura, Maxine, Naomi, Prudence, and…" She shrieked when his palm smacked her ass.

"Enough. Let's eat, babe. I get the idea."

Chuck put his arm around her and she leaned against him and laughed. "What's so funny, Sarah?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that a year ago this would all have seemed like a beautiful dream to me, something other people got, not people like me and yet here I am, living the best life I could imagine with the guy who I figured would bore me to death and instead has brought so much joy and happiness into it. I'm sorry I took so long to see it, baby, a lot of time lost."

"Hey, we got all the time in the world, Sarah, all the time in the world."

**Sloppy Joe's Key West, FL**

They found Ellie and Devon with no problem. They were sitting near the open French doors. The bar was noisy, crowded and smoky. It seems like everyone wanted to light up a cigar at Joe's. A tradition of sorts. Sarah snagged an evil-looking crooked cigar from a passing waiter and looked at Chuck in amusement. "What? You never saw a girl smoke a rum-cured Crook? Oh, Chuck, what a sheltered life you've led. I'm going to have to introduce you to some of the most delicious vices like champagne baths, sauna sex – when you're healthier – and whipped crème and warm melted chocolate. Mmmm, Chuck, I'm going to rock your world like you did mine on the boat."

Ellie and Devon stared at Sarah and then looked at Chuck. Devon had a grin on his face and Ellie looked a wee bit disappointed and kept looking at Devon like she'd deprived him of something.

"Ellie, Devon, she's a little crazy with hunger. Ellie, you wanted Conch Chowder? Let's go find a place while she's still wearing clothes."

Sarah laughed and threw her arms around him and kissed him almost as passionately as she had earlier. She whispered, "Conch Chowder is not quite what I had in mind, Chuck. 'Chuck between the sheets' was more to my liking but I'll sacrifice for now."

Chuck stood abruptly, looked pointedly at Devon and said "Devon, let's go. I have something really important to do later. Really important. Please, food, before she totally loses it. She's crazy with hunger."

Ellie laughed and elbowed Devon. "That's the kind of thing I was telling you was missing in our relationship, Devon. Passionate kidding around. We'll need to work on that."

Devon threw some bills on the table and they walked out the French doors onto Water St. Chuck found it amusing that there were several Water Streets in Key West. Must be confusing as hell for the tourists.

* * *

Chuck had asked a local who was working on his sailboat at the marina for a good restaurant that the locals frequented for Conch Chowder and got directions. The guy told him not to be 'turned away' by the exterior. That was to keep the tourists away. Only the locals and the 'year rounders' were privy to this place. But $20 bought a lot of information in Key West.

Ellie looked at Devon and Sarah. Both of them looked askance at the building Chuck said was a restaurant. "Chuck, that doesn't look like a restaurant, man, it looks like an abandoned storefront. You sure you got your directions right?"

Chuck walked up onto the wooden porch and opened the door. Subdued music and light greeted them. Obviously this was the place. The delicious odor of cooking greeted them and they walked in and waited to be seated. There was a group sitting at the front table and two more with couples. The restaurant only held 20 diners at a time. "Must be exclusive," Chuck thought.

A man came over and Chuck whispered his "password" and the man grinned. "That's the Armor Plated Rat. He takes you tourists for money all the time. He's good people and probably half way back to Loosana bayou by now. He does like funnin' folks, the Rat does."

He seated them and handed them worn menus that hadn't been reprinted or repriced since the Second World War. Devon and Ellie were oohing and ahhing over items and Chuck looked over at Sarah. She was white as a sheet, trembling and he could tell she was close to crying. She was staring at the group table and shaking so badly her hand was rapping a tattoo on the tabletop.

He looked over at the table and flashed. Shit. No wonder. "Devon, Ellie, get Sarah out of here NOW. Don't ask. Get her out, now, for the love of God. Now."

Devon acted quickly, picking Sarah up out of her seat and literally carrying her out the door. Ellie started to say something but stopped after seeing the look on her brother's face and just got up and left. The waiter came over to see what was wrong and Chuck took out a little wallet he'd never had to use and showed the waiter and said "take those other diners back into the kitchen. Do not call the police. This is a national security matter and I will handle it. Now, here's $100.00 for your loss of business but get those civvies out of here quietly. Tell them you have a treat for them in the kitchen. I don't care. You have 3 minutes."

He was glad he'd worn his windbreaker and was especially glad he'd listened to his instincts and worn a weapon that the windbreaker covered. He leaned back in his chair and took out his cell phone, giving the appearance of someone bored waiting for guests. He dialed Arthur Graham.

"Graham, secure."

"Talley, secure. I'm in Key West, Art. Got trouble. In a restaurant with Sarah and she got upset, really upset, when she saw some old guy eating. I flashed on him. It's William Butler, Art, the bastard who had Sarah back when she was Jenny. I'm going to kill him, Art. Just wanted you to know why. He's got the usual entourage of toughs, Art, but it's not problem. You take care of her, you heartless old bastard. And thanks for everything, Art."

He hung up. William Butler with a score of aliases was a known child slaver who 'collected' children and distributed them to wealthy buyers, chicken ranches and brothels throughout the Middle East, Europe and North Africa. His operations in the Western hemisphere were primarily limited to 'collecting' since the CIA and FBI had busted his string of kiddie brothels in the US. He had been sentenced 'in absentia' to death in more than a dozen countries and had at least 20 Interpol warrants out on him.

He walked back to the kitchen and spoke to the man again. "Here's all the cash I have. It'll cover any damages and cleanup required. Thanks. I'm sure the meal would have been all it was said to be. Don't come out of the kitchen. Call the cops in 60 minutes but don't leave the kitchen." He patted the shaking man on the shoulder and said as he was leaving "The good guys are finally going to win one." He took two knives used for opening clam and oyster shells and put them in his pocket. "Just borrowing them. I'll leave them on the table for you."

Chuck walked out through the restaurant and stopped at the cashier's position and took a couple of brochures and a toothpick and sized up the opposition. Three men, probably his body guards and probably armed and the man himself, William Butler or whatever he called himself these days.

He walked out of the restaurant and stopped on the porch. Devon was still carrying Sarah like she was a baby and Ellie was trying to calm her down. "Ellie, the therapist you went to, you know, well, Sarah needed to go a lot more. That man is why. Devon, take the girls to a hospital. Explain it's an emotional trauma. Ellie, call your therapist for assistance. I have to take care of this and I'll be along shortly. I love you guys."

He watched them walk down the street to hail a jitney cab at the corner. He knew what he had to do. He had to do it, no matter how much it went against his moral code. He'd never, ever consider just murdering someone; correction, he would have gladly slain Diane Beckman for her hand in killing his wife. He believed, really, in the concept of "the three fingers" and was glad to find on this decision he could stop at the first finger.

He turned and stopped and removed his M1911 and screwed on the silencer and placed one magazine in his pants pocket and one in his windbreaker pocket. He opened the door and walked in, his weapon held against his pants leg.

He walked up behind Butler and shot the first thug in the face and the second in the head. The third one started standing, reaching for a weapon and Chuck's headshot caught him in the throat instead. No problem. The back of his neck landed against the kitchen door.

He placed the hot silencer tip against Butler's neck and leaned over and said quietly "I'm going to hurt you. A lot. The hurting part depends on your answers. Put your hands flat on the table in front of you. Don't touch anything else if you like having two ears."

Butler tried pulling away from the hot barrel of the silencer but Chuck just kept it pressed firmly against his neck.

"The hands, Butler, the hands, now." He placed his hands, palms down out in front of him. Chuck reached down and flipped the dinner plate off to the side. In one swift motion he brought down one of the knives and drove it through the back of Butler's left hand, pinning it to the table. When he reached for the knife with his right hand Chuck put the muzzle of the pistol against his left little finger and blew it off.

"Hands flat on the table. I don't like repeating myself, Butler. If I have to, you'll lose something. Now, hand on the table. And again he impaled it with the remaining knife.

"Question #1. Why are you here, maggot?" He waited 30 seconds and then placed the muzzle of the pistol against his left ring finger and pulled the trigger. "Why are you here?" He muffled the screams with a cloth napkin. He pulled it out when the screaming stopped.

"I have money, lot's of money. Name your price. Anything."

Chuck placed the muzzle against the next finger and blew it off. "Answers, maggot. Not offers. I have more money than God and you're running out of fingers. Now, why are you here?"

Ten minutes and three more fingers later Chuck had his answers.

"This is for Jenny, a girl you kept with you for personal services until an agent of the CIA rescued her. This is for Jenny and all the others. Say hello to John Casey for me, Butler. He's burning in Hell's fire, too." He shot him in the face and turned and left. He had things to do and a promise to keep.

He stood outside the restaurant front and threw up everything he had in his stomach. He was sickened with what he'd done but more with what he'd learned. And he thought he had turned into a monster but nothing like that piece of offal sitting back there with his head half gone.

It took him 3 tries to finally dial Graham's number, his hands were shaking so badly. "Graham secure. Chuck, damn it, don't go off halfcocked. A strike team will be there within the hour, Chuck. It's too damned dangerous. Wait for the experts, Chuck. We'll take him into custody and he'll stand trial. Justice will be served, I promise you."

"Justice has been served, Art. But this is what I learned…" He spent the next 5 minutes briefing Arthur Graham on the slave ship bound for Europe and the Middle East and all the locations and individuals involved in the US operation. "Art, Fulcrum is involved. It's the worst kind of money laundering. They provide intelligence to these animals and get payoffs, Art. Tell all your agents, Art, tell them the source of Fulcrum's money. Offer amnesty and the turncoats will all surrender. They joined the agency for a greater purpose and feel it's been perverted. Well, this kind of perversion is the worst kind. Except for the top dogs, the 'soldiers' will mutiny and come back. It's the only way to break their back."

"Jesus, Chuck, that's disgusting. Drugs are one thing, but children? It will be done and quickly. We'll offer limited amnesty. No free rides but no prisons and no executions. What about the ship? It's in international waters and is too close to Cuba for us to intercept. They'll just duck into Cuban waters and laugh at us."

"Damn it, Art. The Cold War is over and we won. Call them up on your spy-phone and tell them what's on the ship. There are 400 children, Art, not 400 political pawns. And some of them are Cuban, undoubtedly but most are Mexican or American. Get them to cooperate."

"They can't do much either without a cause, Chuck. It'll create an international incident that the Cubans won't want and they won't help. Not without a good reason."

"Then I'll give them a reason. Take care of her, Art. Be safe. You're still alive because Sarah loves you, Art. Remember that if you ever think of hurting her again like you did with the Sands Spring abortion."

Chuck ran to the dock and brought up his auto-navigation system. He keyed in the GPS coordinates Butler had so graciously provided and did the math in his head. He could do it with fuel to spare.

He disconnected the pier-side electrical and water links and cast off. He pissed off more than the local harbor patrol when he hit the harbor entrance at 32 knots. He was glad he'd refueled. He wouldn't worry about the return trip.

* * *

An hour later and 42 miles closer he called Graham again.

"Graham secure." The connection was fuzzy but then he was probably on satellite link.

"Bartowski, secure. I need the coordinates on that ship now, Art. It's going to be really close fuel-wise. Every mile is important now."

"Chuck for the last time, please don't do this. You can't stop the ship. The Cubans want to help but can't without a really good reason. They're real big on freedom of the seas and it's a Panamanian freighter so they don't want any political fall out. They're really pissed about the kids and agree with us but don't have a reason. They're afraid if they just go after them that they'll kill the kids and it'll be a huge incident in the press."

"The coordinates, Art, please. Tell the Cubans to shadow the ship and get ready to move. I need those coordinates, Art." He got them. He was about to disconnect when Graham yelled into the phone "Son, Sarah's better and her therapist is on the way. She doesn't know about this fool stunt of yours. Don't make her a widow before she's mar…" The rest was lost. So much for 'worldwide coverage'.

Chuck plugged the numbers into the auto-navigation system and was satisfied with the response. He would intercept the coordinates in 2 hours and 34 minutes but by estimating the course and speed he would have intercept in 2 hours 10 minutes with almost 60 gallons of fuel remaining.

He set his course and pushed the throttles to the stops.

**Key West General Hospital  
Key West, FL**

"Where's Chuck, Ellie? Please, where is he?"

"He's taking care of some spy business, I guess. He said he'd take care of the problem and then be right here. I don't know how long he'll be or where he is. I'm sorry, Sarah, I just don't know."

Sarah took out her cell phone and called Arthur Graham. "Graham, secure."

"Talley, secure. Art, where's Chuck? I need him, right now, here. Where is he? I know he called you from the restaurant, where is he?"

"Sarah, he took care of that business with Butler and found out about some kids on a ship and is coordinating their rescue. It's all right, Sarah. He's fine. He said to tell you he loves you and he'll see you soon. So, where's my wedding invitation."

Sarah knew a bait and switch when she heard one. "You're lying, you're changing the subject. Where, exactly, is Chuck? Do you know?"

"No, I don't know where he is, exactly. I spoke to him on the phone and he was all business except for your comments. He's out of cell range, little girl. But he's fine, honest. He took out the thugs and then Butler. A pro job with no civvies witnesses. Be proud of him, Sarah, I am. He's always done the right thing. Always. Oh, and he got me to send Miriam down to you to help you deal with things."

"I don't need a damned therapist, Uncle Art, I need Chuck. He's all I ever needed." She hung up and let the phone fall to the hospital floor. Ellie bent over and retrieved it and set it on the nightstand.

An hour later and Ellie and Sarah were deep in conversation. Ellie was listening with a look of abject horror and terror as Sarah haltingly told Ellie about 'those years'. It was all she could do to not cry out in sympathy and wrap her soon-to-be-sister in her arms and have a good cry. How anyone could be so cruel. She had a feeling he wouldn't be cruel to anyone else. She'd seen the look on her brother's face once before.

"Ellie, he's willing to marry me even though I may not be able to give him children and even knowing what's happened to me in the past. He's not willing, Ellie, he's _demanding_. And I know, finally, that it's not pity or sympathy. He really loves me, 'warts and all', as he's said. I'm so lucky to have found him, Ellie. I promise, nothing will happen to him if I can prevent it. It started as my assignment, my duty, now it's my desire and pleasure to protect him. It's ironic that the more he became confident the more I became needy."

Sarah wanted to leave. She wanted to go back to the boat and wait for Chuck. The physician who first examined her noted her composure and her reasonable request and had no reason not to release her, especially when her two traveling companions were physicians.

They walked back to the marina and down the pier. At first they thought they were on the wrong pier and went back to the office and checked. They were told that the _Sarah's Smile_ had broken harbor rules and accelerated from the pier at a high rate of speed, in excess of 30 knots, and the owner could expect a certified letter in the mail and a healthy fine from the harbor authority.

**Somewhere in the Florida Straits**

Chuck figured he'd intercept in about 30 minutes and went forward to prepare. Something Sarah had said once stuck in his mind. "All CIA structures are built to self-destruct." That was when she blew up the castle below CyberLogicals.

The inner hull of the _Sarah's Smile_ from the bow back about 6 feet had been layered with ½ pound bars of C4 and daisy-chained with det cord to a central ignition and arming point. The electrical connections were in place and the blasting caps were in a small compartment in the base of the gun safe. The C4 and primacord would not explode on impact nor would they explode in a fire. They were safe.

When the daisy-chained det cord was inserted into a cap well and crimped the entire assembly was a deadly bomb requiring only the application of a small electrical charge. A series of flashlight batteries would suffice but the preferred method was the direct application through a hand held blasting device that generated an electrical current that set off the cap. Since Chuck could not time the impact exactly to use a timer, he'd have to use the hand held device to detonate the charges and he'd selected a claymore firing device or 'clacker' that looked like an O-D green roofing stapler.

He figured if he was on the flying bridge he could judge the impact precisely and dive off into the ocean. That's what he figured. And he also figured he knew how many angels could dance on the head of a pin. The likelihood of success was high. The likelihood of survival was not so high. But he had to try. There were 400 kids on that ship.

With everything set up he now had time on his hands. He fired up the radar for the first time and saw that he'd underestimated his speed against the vessel's course and in fact he had less than five minutes to make a straight-in run against the ship but first he had to check the plimsoll line and see just how high she rode out of the water. Butler had said the vessel carried no cargo other than the 'merchandise' so Chuck figured it would be riding pretty high in the water. The higher the better.

He took out his phone and tried it. 'No Service'. Figures. He thought about the radio and vetoed that, too. Eavesdroppers and besides, he had no idea what frequency the CIA used.

He was ready. He had the clacker and he had his resolve. A vest! He promised Sarah he'd wear a vest. He went down, flipped open a cupboard under the transom seat and pulled on a vest. He would keep his word and he smiled thinking Sarah would crap if he turned up on an op wearing this instead of Kevlar.

He flew down the port beam of the freighter and found it to be riding as high as it would if it were empty. He circled around and aimed for the rudderpost assembly. The old tub was a single-screw boat and steering by using the engines was moot. He'd knock out the rudder and the Cubans could ride in to the rescue.

He stood up in the flying bridge noticing little pinpricks of light coming from the stern and the bridge. Someone was alert and had a searchlight fixed on the _Sarah's Smile_ but it wouldn't do them any good. Several rounds hit his boat and a few struck the lower windscreen, shattering it. He'd miss this boat but it would go down in a good cause.

He watched as the bow sprit crumpled and he squeezed the clacker twice and then threw himself off the upper superstructure into the sea. Between leaving and impact he had a sudden and nasty thought. What if they picked him up after he took out their steering? And he'd left his trusty M1911 in his coat.

The impact of the boat and the explosive power of the C4 snapped off the rudderpost assembly effectively reducing the boat to going either in the direction it was currently headed or stopping. The propane tank for the galley added a spectacular bloom to the explosion, blowing out the bridge windows and warping hatches on the stern deck.

The Cuban patrol boats running parallel to the freighter now had their reason to intercede. A vessel explosion required that any vessel in the vicinity immediately approach and render aid. In the case of the Cubans, they sent over a veritable armada of heavily armed sailors to 'render aid and assistance'.

The firefight was short but brutal and the Cubans saw little reason to take prisoners after finding the ship's cargo, some of whom had been murdered in anticipation of boarding.

Of the _Yanqui_ man who drove the boat and crippled the freighter there was no sign. The commander of the patrol boat squadron reported the explosion, the boarding and subsequent rescue and that no sign was found of any survivors from the Y_anqui_ boat.  


* * *

Arthur Graham had been watching Chuck's approach and attack on the freighter real-time via satellite, one of many in geosychronous orbit over Cuba. The primary explosion shocked him and the secondary left him wondering what else Talley had had on board his boat. He'd been in contact with the head of the Cuban Security Service and had alerted them to keep an eye out for his wayward agent. As with all professional espionage executives there was a high degree of candor.

"Your man made a big explosion and lost himself, Arturo, a brave man for a _Yanqui."_

"Get stuffed, Jorge, you and I both know he gave you the opportunity to gain some face and points in the international arena. Kindly have the good graces to shut the fuck up about politics. He did the right thing, Jorge, always did. I'll miss him. Don't suppose a body's shown up yet? You'll tell me if you find him, won't you? He's going, was going, to marry my foster daughter. He was only an analyst but a fine man. I'll miss him. Call me if you find anything. Anything at all. Chuck Talley was rare in this business, Jorge. He gave a damn about the right things. Be safe now. Say hello to Rosa and your kids."

Jorge Vasquez-Rios had not risen to the top of the Security Service being a stupid man. This Talley was truly a man to be reckoned with. A shame he was probably dead. Arturo would not let some piss ant marry his daughter. No. There was more to this Talley story.

A man leaves Key West and sails down to Cuba to intercept a freighter carrying kidnapped children and dies stopping it. Good press. He would see to it the _Yanqui_ got his credit. Even Cuba was not so cold as to ignore heroism for the greater good. He would bring it up with CNN in the morning. It would be a peace offering in normalizing relations between the two countries. After all these years, a mutual and cooperative triumph over evil. Yes, a peace offering.

The next morning CNN was granted an interview with President Castro who described the events of the previous evening, describing how an American intelligence agent had learned about children being held prisoner by slavers intent on delivering them to Europe and the Middle East and about how this brave _Yanqui_ disabled the ship at the cost of his own life. After the usual BS posturing, the president asked if CNN would like pictures of the children to help identify them for their parents. Stagecraft. He also asked if the United States would allow Cuban civilian aircraft to return those American children to their homeland via Miami.

**Somewhere in Cuba**

Ratings aside, the broadcast created quite a stir but none so evident as in a small coastal town where an American had been found floating at sea by a fishing boat and brought in to the prison on suspicion of being an enemy counterrevolutionary. After a few beatings, the American was thrown into a cell and a memo was sent to Havana asking for instructions.

When the commander of the prison saw the broadcast he saw stars in his future. He ordered the American brought to his office and examined and treated by his own personal physician. The doctor tsk-tskd a lot and finally stitched up the cuts and treated the bruises shaped mysteriously like gun butts, boots soles and truncheons and told the commander he could be transported by car to Havana safely.

**Military Hospital  
Havana, Cuba**

Jorge Vasquez-Rios met Charles Talley in the hospital where he was sent immediately upon re-examination by a competent physician. After confirming that it was he who had rammed the sternpost disabling the rudder, the Chief of the Cuban Security Service called Arthur Graham at his home.

"Arturo, I have your Talley here. He is somewhat battered and bruised but alive. I will have him interviewed on CNN and then released to the Red Cross for repatriation. Will that be acceptable?" He wanted to see how far up the ladder this Talley actually sat. He believed, no, he _knew_ this man was an operative, probably his best.

"What? Alive. Shit. No, no interviews. His life would be in more danger that it already is and it would ruin his career and personal life. He's been marked for assassination several times but won't keep his nose out of trouble long enough for things to die down. It would be a personal favor if you would not let his face be seen, Jorge. My daughter wants a live husband, not a dead hero."

"As you wish. But as a concession, what about us meeting somewhere to discuss our mutual adversaries and common interests? It has been a long time since we drank and smoked in Africa. Too long and we're not getting any younger, Arturo. I have grandchildren now. Me!"

"I'll have him flown to Miami with the children then, and he'll be arriving at 3pm Miami time. Is that acceptable?"

"Absolutely. Grandchildren? You _are _old, my friend."

**Water Street Hotel  
Key West, FL**

"Talley, secure."

"Graham, secure. Sarah, I want you and Ellie Bartowski to drive up to Miami International and meet the plane from Havana. It's gets in at about 3pm. There are a bunch of kids on board and I want you to see if you recognize any of them, OK? Do it for me, Sarah."

"OK, but I was hoping for word about Chuck. Anything. At least I can bury him, Art. I don't even have a body to grieve over. Isn't that pathetic? And what's worse is I don't think he's dead. I hope he's not in some Cuban prison awaiting execution for being a spy. He saved those kids. I want answers, Uncle Art."

"Maybe you'll find some closure in Miami seeing all those kids he saved. Now, head on up to Miami and do your job, Agent Talley. Make Chuck proud."

**Miami International Airport**  
**3:45pm**

The flight from Havana was big news since it was the first in almost half a century. Sarah and Ellie bypassed all the usual security using Sarah's CIA ID and just dragging Ellie along. When the boarding concourse was reached she watched as child after child walked out to waiting cameras and sometimes parents. Finally, there were no more children.

As she turned to leave she saw the pilot and a stewardess helping a tall man out of a wheelchair. His back was to her and although he was built like her Chuck, he appeared to have been injured or burned and he was wearing hospital scrubs and slippers. His face was totally wrapped in gauze and bandages and his hair was covered by, of all things, a New York Yankees baseball cap. The pilot shook the man's hand vigorously and the stewardess kissed him on both bandaged cheeks and then they both reboarded their aircraft.

Wondering who the man was and why he was on a flight from Cuba, she let her mind wander out over the crowd. He made this happen. These children were safe because he did the right thing. At first she had been furious with him, damning him for wasting his life on some quixotic mission but seeing these kids made her change her mind. Some things were worth dying for. Graham was right, she did feel some sense of closure. She and Ellie turned and headed for the parking lot. They'd left Devon with the luggage and were going back to Charah House and Lantana.

"Sarah?" She stopped walking. Ellie hadn't heard Sarah's name called and kept walking. "Sarah, please, Sarah, don't be mad. It had to be done, Sarah."

She started crying. She was afraid to turn around. Afraid it was her imagination. Afraid it was a ghost. Afraid she'd turn around and see…nothing.

"Hey, I told you, Sarah, that we had all the time in the world, Sarah, all the time in the world."

She turned and walked slowly towards him. His voice sounded different, but that was probably the wrapping. What if he were badly burned? It wouldn't matter. He was alive. That mattered. Sarah raised a hand and took off the baseball cap. Some of his hair was missing, burned off in the blast or shaved off to make stitching easier. She took his hand and put the palm against her cheek. It was him. Alive. Yes.

She put her arms around him and leaned against him and let slow tears of joy soak his shirt. She wouldn't ask about his face. She didn't care. Looks were only skin deep anyway. She had his heart and soul and that was what mattered. She felt comfortable in his embrace. She was home. Chuck scent with something added. Disinfectant used in hospitals. She released him and turned and stepped toward Ellie's receding form.

"Ellie, it's Chuck, we need you, now."

Two hours later Chuck was in his bed in Charah House.

**Charah House**  
**Lantana, FL**

Ellie had done a thorough examination of her brother despite his protests that it was 'totally uncool' for his sister to be doing intimate things with his anatomy. Sarah hovered in back of Ellie, watching and asking questions. Had he been tortured? No. Had he been abused by the Cubans? Yes. Ellie thought that some of the bruises were from police batons or cudgels but others were obviously from boots and gun butts. Amazingly, his staples and the wound were intact and Ellie removed the staples and pronounced him 'healed'.

"Sarah, he's fine. Really. Just going to be sore. If I thought it was serious, I'd have him in that hospital you told me about. Seriously, he's fine. He'll be sore as hell but don't let him over do things. Sex is fine, but you do the driving, understand me? And no weird things, Sarah. Nothing using chocolate or whipped crème or any of that other stuff you muttered in Key West. Not for at least a week or two, anyways."

She left a mortified Sarah behind. "Chuck, I'm going to take a shower and then get Amelia to fix you something to eat. You haven't eaten in a while, have you?" It was a statement, not a question.

"Sarah, I need to shower. I stink. I'll make our bed stink. I need to get clean. Please?"

"Chuck, I don't care how the bed smells, how you smell, as long as you're alive I don't care. Sure, I'll help you shower but that's all, Chuck Talley, shower, no funny business. Every time I get you almost healthy you do something stupid and get… no, that's a lie. You do something heroic and get hurt and I don't give you enough credit for knowing what needs to be done at whatever cost. I'm sorry for that. So, let's get you in the shower then maybe downstairs and sit in the sun. Amelia is worried about you, Chuck. She's seen the news and knows it's you. So be prepared."

It was a shower like no other. She washed every part of his body with body wash and her hands. She was incredibly gentle but had to know where he'd been hurt, where he was healthy and where the damned Cubans had kicked, punched, clubbed or butt stroked him. She would call Art. This would not pass unpunished. He'd sent her to Miami knowing Chuck was on that plane. Bless his crooked heart. And the wrappings were for show and to keep the curious from knowing who he was.

After a few minutes she noticed how quiet he was. How still. She looked up and there were tears in his eyes. "What's wrong, baby? Are you in pain? What's wrong, Chuck?"

"I thought I'd never see you again, Sarah. After I hit the ship and was in the water I just knew I'd never see you again and it broke me, Sarah. And then in the prison, I knew I'd die there and I – I - I just, I just…"

She grabbed him and held him tightly. "Hey, I never gave up hope, Chuck. I knew you were still alive because my heart was still beating. I never, ever, gave up on you. Even when Art said you were dead I didn't really believe it because my heart was still beating. Do you understand?"

He nodded and whispered, "I got Butler, Sarah. I hurt him and he'll never hurt anyone else, ever again. I enjoyed it, Sarah. I'm sorry, but I enjoyed it. You're going to marry a monster so I'll understand if you don't, won't, want to go through with it, Sarah."

"NO, no, no, no. You're not a monster. A monster would not have figured out how to disable a ship even when it meant blowing himself up. No, a monster would not have done all this to get me back. A monster would not have always put me first, Chuck. I want to marry you, warts and all. Just like you want to marry me, warts and all. Understand? Tell me you understand me, please."

"I understand and I love you, warts and all. But your warts are so much nicer."

"Good. Now let's get out. We're pruning, Chuck." She laughed and helped him back to the bed. "Sleep. Eating can wait. I'll wake you for supper. Sleep, Chuck and don't dream."

* * *

Carina and Bryce were sitting on the verandah drinking coffee with Devon and Ellie, laughing and talking. She'd missed dinner with Chuck in the shower and figured she'd see what she could make out of leftovers in the kitchen.

She walked into the kitchen and saw Amelia sitting at the breakfast nook. "Hey, what's wrong? It's past time to go home, Amelia."

"That was the _jefe_ in Cuba, wasn't it, the _jefe_ was the one who saved those children? And you, you were thinking he was dead. I saw on the TV how bad he was hurt. He blew up his boat and almost drowned. Such a man you have. You should be proud."

"I am. And I'll be so glad when he's healthy again. What he did was for me. Once upon a time I was one of those kids. He did it for me, Amelia. And so much more. He is special, isn't he, the jefe?"

"Yes. And you will have fine strong children. I have seen it. Trust me, _hija_, strong and fine children. At least two I have seen. Blonde hair and brown eyes and brown hair and blue eyes. I have seen it. You will see, _hija_."

"Amelia, I don't think I can have children. There was just too much abuse and, well, it's doubtful."

"No, I have seen it. And I shall light candles for you, _hija_, for you and the _jefe_ and for your beautiful children. You shall see. Now, we have to feed the _jefe_. He looks like those bastards in Havana never fed him at all."

"He's sleeping, Amelia, but if you leave something simple I'll be able to heat it up for him."

"A woman should learn to cook for her man, not 'heat it up'. _Dios mio_, this younger generation. Take it from the box to the plate to the microwave and then say you cooked it. Where is the love in that? Where is the caring? I suppose setting the timer properly is a sign of love to you people? You will all starve when the lights go out. Can't even boil water, I'll bet, can you, _chica_?" Amelia smiled and gathered her things to leave. "You make sure he eats. That one is all skin and bone. You have to put some meat on him. Hurricane season is coming, you know?"

Sarah laughed and nodded her head in agreement. She would probably starve if they lost their electricity. Unless the Wizard sleeping upstairs had a generator hidden someplace. She figured he did since he'd planned everything else so precisely and spectacularly.

Sarah poured herself a cup of Amelia's strong coffee and went over to the couples and sat down and listened. They were talking about Chuck and Sarah's wedding and when and where it would be. She was a bit irked until she realized the questions they'd asked were ones she should be asking herself.

"Guys, Chuck and I don't want a big deal, just our closest family and friends, no one else. No gifts, no showers, no bachelor parties – Bryce and Devon – just the few of us who Chuck and I feel are important to us. You four, Morgan and Anna from L.A., and Art from D.C. That's it. And a priest or minister or whoever to make it legal. And Murphy. Chuck wants Murphy there but he promises not to bite Carina if she stays away from him."

They all laughed at that. Earlier Bryce and Carina had taken Devon and Ellie down to retrieve the SUV and Carina introduced them to Murphy and his tale of woe. Murphy didn't hate anyone; he just had a thing for Chuck. Chuck was his strange flightless friend who fixed him up and let him eat his fill from his plate. Chuck was food and safety and scratches. Carina was shrieking noises like most two-legs.

Carina could feed the gulls and the other pelicans but Murphy refused to take food from her. He could smell a predator. To show his true feelings he walked over Bryce's plate and pooped. He could smell an asshole a mile away.

They discussed what to wear, what time to have it and what Chuck would want if he ever woke up. Carina was once again in awe of her former partner and envious as hell of Sarah. Bryce was a tool but useful. Like a butter knife and duct tape. A tool with many uses. Right now she was using him to scratch her itches. Eventually she'd tire of him and Art would move her on to some other assignment. It was how she worked.

* * *

Chuck finally woke about 9:30pm and tottered down the back stairs to the kitchen. He was hungry since he hadn't eaten since lunch in Key West and that was, he had no idea how long ago that was. He was concerned at his confusion. He usually had an inner clock that kept time for him but nothing seemed to be working. He heard the others on the verandah and wondered if he just went back to bed if he'd have missed anything important.

Sarah thought she heard someone in the kitchen during a lull in the conversation and figured it was her hero looking for food. She excused herself and went in search of her fiancé and found him opening up a beer and sitting in the breakfast nook looking unfocused and tired.

"Hey, Amelia left you some supper. Why don't we warm it up and take it upstairs and sit out on the upper verandah and just enjoy the evening. That way you don't have to 'perform' for the jackals and your sister and Devon. What do you say? We can get comfortable and just veg out."

"Sounds good to me." He grinned and for a moment she saw her old Chuck but he slipped away just as the grin did.

By the time Sarah got upstairs Chuck was sitting on a love seat and looking out over the ocean. "Hey, girl friend, come sit and keep me company for a little bit. We should use this more in the evenings. Cozy, private and you can't beat the view."

She sat down next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Chuck, have you called Morgan and Anna yet about coming out for the wedding?" She didn't want to push the issue now but wanted to open the conversation and bring him up to speed with what the others had discussed. It was their day and they should decide not a bunch of 'guests'.

She started feeding him the warmed chicken slices and bits of salad and potato wedges with her fingers. He just laughed and she chuckled until she realized just how warm it was getting. When he licked her fingers to grab a sticky morsel she knew she should have just kept looking until she found a damned fork.

"Well, we decided to get married quickly on the way to Key West and I've been a little busy, Sarah. I'll do it in the morning, OK? Right now I just want to spend some awake time with you. No fooling around, just together time, OK? I'm still not on the same page as the rest of you. Things will look better in the morning and I'll call him around noon our time. He should be at work by then." More chicken slices and potato wedges disappeared.

"Sounds good to me. Want to go in and use the bed? Do some serious snuggling? I could use a dose of Chuck right about now. I still can't get over how close we came to losing you, Chuck. And I'm still not sure if I close my eyes you'll be here when I open them. I was sure I was hallucinating at the airport. I was so scared to turn around I almost ran away. How lame is that?"

"Pretty lame. I won't leave you like that. If I have to go before you, I want you holding me so that your face is the last thing I'll see. How lame is that?"

"That's sweet not lame but it is pretty damned morbid, Chuck. Let's change the subject. How many, Chuck?"

"How many what?" Now he was really confused.

"Children, Chuck. How many children?"

"Well, how about 5 or 6? You know twins and triplets run in our side of the family." He laughed at the look on her face. It was hard to shock Sarah Walker but Chuck had done so.

"F-F-Five or SIX!! You're nuts, Chuck, if you think I'm having litters! One, preferably two. A boy, definitely and maybe a girl but another boy would be nice, too. Curly brown hair and those deep chocolate eyes. I'll spoil them rotten once they learn the eye-trick."

"Nope, a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes is enough. A micro Sarah. Or we could call her Prudence after her mother, or Drusilla after her mother, or Maura, I like that one. And another girl or whatever."

She was surprised to notice all the food was gone, and she was almost gone. She kissed him on the neck and got up. "Be right back. Going to put these in the sink, Be here or in bed when I get back, lover, I don't want to have to come find you. We're not done talking, Talley, so don't flake out on me, either. I have some serious questions to put to you."

They talked until almost midnight. They made wedding decisions, decided to put off the honeymoon until he was back on his feet or, as Sarah put it, 'willing and able to tango several times in a row' and discussed the possibility of getting a replacement for the _Sarah's Smile._

"Chuck, I really, really, liked that boat and not just because the name made me all warm and mushy feeling. I really liked being out on the open ocean with you. I'd like to sail to Bermuda with you. I've never been there and I can't think of anyone I'd rather see it with for the first time than you, lover. Think you can find another? Maybe a bit bigger? And definitely faster."

"But Sarah, faster means we wouldn't have as much time to fool around between ports. And besides, most times you couldn't cruise full blast without running out of fuel or beating yourself up on the waves and the 3 or 4 knots we'd pick up would really not be that noticeable." But he'd definitely contact that broker tomorrow and set him on the hunt for a replacement. He couldn't file an insurance claim but maybe the government could see to reimbursing him for part of his loss.

They sat, each in their thoughts. "And definitely a flying bridge, Chuck. Definitely." She giggled at the memory of waking up still 'together' to a truck horn. Embarrassing yes, but a beautiful memory.

She'd call Art in the morning about the wedding this coming weekend and also broach the subject of a boat to replace the one he'd 'donated' to the greater good. Surely the government had a suitable replacement in impound from some drug kingpin. Something decadently opulent to make up for his sacrifice?

"Chuck, let's get to bed, sweetheart, and we can finalize all this with the others in the morning. I think we're in agreement and this weekend is the best time. So call Morgan and get the ball rolling. You know, having him here in Florida would make our business cover a lot more credible. We could buy him a house on the waterway and you and he could do things a non-spy would and give you some buddy time. I know you miss him."

"And I'll make nice with Anna but if she comes within a meter of you, she's toast. You have no reason to be pitied… got it?" He just nodded, already thinking three steps ahead of her to the next logical move.

Just as she got up and offered him her hand for balance he pulled her back down into his lap and kissed her, almost as effectively as he had on the dock in Key West. He loved his Sarah and she needed his approval, why he didn't know. He nibbled down her neck and sucked on the hollow above her collar bone. "Yeah, I'm really tired. Didn't hit me until right this very minute." He kissed her again the same way and slid a hand under her tank top and popping open her bra. He loved front-openers. So convenient. She pulled herself up and straddled his sitting form.

"Charles Irving Bartowski Carmichael Talley-whacker, you better be kidding me about being tired." She pulled the tank top over her head and threw the opened bra onto the floor behind her. She had never been this wanton with anyone before and she hoped they'd keep this magic going until they died. As he nibbled at her all she could think of was chocolate-covered Chuck.

When they finally made it to the bed the sun was just beginning to lighten the eastern horizon. She wrapped herself in Chuck and was asleep within seconds. He wasn't far behind.

* * *

Very late next morning at breakfast Chuck was treated to Amelia's version of a hero's welcome and that embarrassed the crap out of him. She brought the others their breakfast and then took Chuck into the nook area sat him down and brought him a continuous wave of one breakfast food after another until finally he waved her away and said he needed some room for coffee. He glanced up and saw Ellie and Sarah in the doorway watching with approval. "Fatten him up, Amelia. Hurricane season is coming." For some reason Amelia found that incredibly hysterical and soon all three women were laughing at some private joke.

Chuck spent the morning on the phone with Arthur Graham answering a series of questions regarding his experiences in Cuba and specifically his meetings with Vasquez-Rios and El Presidente. He hadn't mentioned that meeting so obviously Art was in contact with Vasquez-Rios, whoever he might be.

"He's the one who got you back to us, Chuck. He's old-school, respects what you did regardless of who you are. We go way back, all the way to Africa and the Cuban problems of the 80s and 90s. Drank a lot of rum and smoked a lot of cigars, good cigars, not the crap passing itself off as 'Cubans' from the Dominican Republic. So, what did you think of Castro the younger? Think he's a little less prone to histrionics than his older brother, Fidel?"

"I never spoke to him, Art, only an interpreter and it was pretty canned speech, I thought. A lot of BS about working together to build a better future for both nations and how what happened should be an example to all Caribbean nations of how things should work. Sounded like a politician to me."

"Maybe, Chuck. Won't know for sure until you and Sarah get back from your honeymoon in Havana now, will we? I know you hadn't planned on one, but your country needs this, Chuck, and you're more than a mere asset, Chuck. They know you as an honorable man, _un hombre de honor,_ and there's enough of the old Spain still in their blood that things like that matter. So a month or 6 weeks from now you and Sarah will sail into Havana harbor on vacation."

"Art, I'm the damned intersect. I just can't put myself in that kind of jeopardy. What if they suspect, or Fulcrum has infiltrated their ranks, or if they just decide rapprochement with the _Yanquis_ is just not in the cards? You have a plan for getting us out? Both of us?"

"I have Vasquez-Rios' word, Chuck, and that's good enough."

"It's not good enough for me, not where Sarah and the intersect are concerned. I want to see an extraction plan before I even think about discussing this with Sarah. No plan, no mission. Send Hillary, Art. She's self-extracting."

Graham thought that comment was hilarious and laughed for almost 30 seconds. "Chuck, you're going in as tourists, not diplomats. Cuba is opened to limited visitation and you're a successful businessman looking to expand markets. It's above-board. No harm will come to Sarah or the Intersect, Chuck. Not a problem."

"We'll see that when I see the extraction plan. Send PantsSuit if it's so damned important. She'll dazzle them with her fashion sense. Besides, Sarah has her heart set on Bermuda if I can replace the '_Sarah's Smile'_ quickly."

"Yeah, your bride already hit me up on replacing the boat with one in impound on drug charges. I'm looking into it. But think about Cuba, Chuck. It's an opportunity to expand your business and see somewhere Sarah's never been to. She's been in Bermuda more times than I can count. She and Br…, well, I'll see what I can scrounge up. In the meantime, I'll be at the wedding, never fear, Chuck. Be safe and stay out of the damned hospitals for the sake of my budget. Maybe we should hire Ellie full-time to be your personal physician."

Chuck hung up, curious about the entire conversation. Art was deliberately obtuse about few things when you boiled down what he said versus what he meant. He said exactly what he meant this time.

'_Sarah said she wanted to go to Bermuda because she'd never been there. Either Art's confused (he did almost say 'Bryce') or Sarah's lying which makes no sense. She had no reason to lie to me.'_

He called Morgan next. It was a far more pleasant conversation with Morgan almost in tears over Chuck's marriage and promising that he and Anna would be there. Chuck also asked him bluntly if he'd consider moving to Florida. He missed his friend and phone calls and business reports weren't the same as the friendship they'd shared. He told him that he'd sweeten the pot and spring for a house on the waterway as an incentive. And a moving bonus and a piece of the action. He needed Morgan because he knew he was the only one involved in this whole mess that he could trust.

"I'll have to discuss this with Anna but I really don't think she'll say 'no', Chuck. I think this is a great idea. And yeah, we'll be there for the wedding. I'll get tickets and we'll fly into Miami. I'll email you with the arrival time. Can you pick us up or should we get a rental?"

**The Beach Wedding  
Charah House  
Lantana, FL**

It rained the day before the wedding and the day after the wedding. And it rained the entire day of the wedding. Sarah and Ellie were in a funk and Chuck wisely stayed away from the women.

He went up to the master suite and glanced out at the waves. The wedding would go on as scheduled, just not on the beach, but overlooking the beach.

He went down and explained his idea to Sarah. All the arrangements remained unchanged. The priest would simply officiate upstairs on the covered verandah. Move a few chairs and couches and the room was ready.

Sarah Walker married Chuck Talley at 3pm on Saturday in the middle of one of the worst rainstorms to hit the coast since Hugo but it didn't matter one bit.

The 'reception' was simply moved indoors to the living room and with only 8 people in attendance nothing more needed to be done.

Besides the important thing, according to Sarah, was that they were married. Officially and formally and in front of the people that mattered most to them. Unfortunately, Murphy did not attend. No one could catch him. His attitude was almost as bad as Chuck's. Insufferable.

Ellie and Devon flew back to Baltimore on the CIA jet, courtesy of the 'father' of the bride who used the trip to try and convince Ellie and Devon to relocate to Lantana and join the Intersect Team. Both of them said they'd think about it but only Ellie gave it any real thought. Devon had already decided to say 'yes' and hoped Ellie would agree. Anna and Morgan had gone house-hunting with a realtor Chuck had arranged to have escort the couple around Boynton Beach and Lantana.

**Charah House  
Lantana, FL  
3 Days Later**

"Chuck, Director Graham wants a teleconference at 11am and he wants all four of us to attend. You have any idea what it's about?" Bryce had been bored, depressed and was craving an assignment. Carina was getting on his nerves and he'd been rather testy since the wedding. Chuck's marriage to Sarah was the final nail in the coffin of hope that Bryce held out for Sarah and him.

"Nope. Nothing in the dailies to get his dander up or curiosity piqued. Maybe he wants to go over the Cuba trip…again. He's really getting pushy on that subject and I keep telling him that I can't row to Cuba so either we fly via Mexico City or he delivers a drug boat from impound. I'm not donating another boat to the greater good. Once was enough."

"Chuck, you still have such an insufferably bad attitude sometimes. You have to let the past go. I do everyday. Like Dale Carnegie says, "Live your life in day-tight compartments."

"That's a bold statement from the guy who meticulously planned getting me thrown out of Stanford on some bullshit charges that were never proven and then banged my fiancé. How's that working for you? You seem to have put your conscience in a day-tight operating mode. RatBastard. One of these days, Bryce, you're going to realize that there are consequences. Karma."

"Chuck, you still holding that against me? You know I did it for your own good, man. The CIA was no place for you then."

"It's no place for me now, asshole, but I got the frikkin' intersect shoved up my nose thanks to your damned email. Lynn died because of it. Casey died because of it. How many others will you have killed by simply sending me an email? Make yourself scarce until the meeting, Bryce, or I'll have Sarah kill you."

Larkin wasn't sure he was kidding. He wasn't but he didn't think Sarah would do it. But Bryce didn't know that so he left muttering about 'bygones.' Funny, must be the CIA institutional equivalent of a cultural 'apology'.

* * *

Sarah keyed the codes and opened up the teleconference on the wide-screen TV in the game room. All four of them were curious as to why the conference had been called.

Arthur Graham appeared exactly at 11am. "Morning, team, I've got an important assignment for you. You will be receiving an invitation to the Roberts home in West Palm Beach. Philip Roberts is the founder and CEO of Roberts Industrials, a maker of key components for the private sector and DoD communications satellites. He's giving a rather large party and fund raiser to launch his bid for the Senate. Team, his only child is a highly-placed renegade Fulcrum operative who will be in attendance to assist dear old Dad in his announcement soiree and campaign."

"Agent Talley will go in and make contact with the Fulcrum operative and will use whatever means necessary to determine the extent of Fulcrum's involvement in the campaign and attempt to bring the operative back to our side. Any, and I mean any, means are authorized, including seduction and blackmail. The elimination of the operative may be an option but that will be determined at a later date"

"You just got married and I know this is a lot to ask but bringing this operative back would provide intel that might hasten the end of Fulcrum."

"Director, I'm sure Chuck understands that this is a necessary sacrifice and seduction is just another tool. There is no emotional involvement. Its just work."

"Well, Sarah, I'm glad you feel that way because Chuck will be going to the fund raiser and party with Carina. This renegade knows both you and Bryce Larkin by sight and because you've worked together in the past. Carina came on board from the DEA and is not known to anyone as a CIA agent."

"But you said 'Agent Talley has to be willing to…" started Sarah.

"Yes, _Chuc_k Talley. The Fulcrum operative is an old acquaintance of his, Jill Roberts, his former fiancé and Bryce Larkin's former partner. Now you see why it's imperative that no known CIA or NSA agents be involved. You and Bryce will be in the commo van, Sarah. Carina will be going in with Chuck."

Sarah reached over and took Chuck's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, whether of warning or reassurance he wasn't sure but figured she'd clarify things once the briefing was over.

"Any questions?"

"Yes. Chuck Bartowski is dead. How do I explain my resurrection to Jill?"

"Good point. Witness Protection. Those assassination attempts jeopardized the work you did for the government and so you were given a new identity, etc. Make it work, Chuck. Anything you do is sanctioned, including eliminating the turncoat, but we'd rather have her back in the fold. No jail, no prosecution, no termination if she comes in on her own."

"That's it. Be safe. We'll talk again after the party."

There was dead silence and then Carina and Bryce started talking at the same time. Sarah just got up and went up to their room. Chuck looked at the two agents and said quietly, "You two say or do anything to upset her more and I'll have you removed. Understand? I mean it. Carina, you pull any crap like you did in L.A. at the Museum and you're toast. Very burnt toast. Larkin, you'll be monitoring the ice pack in the Baffin Straits. Understand?"

They both nodded and then launched into detail and loud apologies and explanations.

"Shut up. Find something constructive to do. Bryce, inventory the van and the gear. Carina, go pick out something 'respectable' for the fund raiser." He left them wondering what happened to the happy groom.

* * *

He walked up the stairs wondering what awaited him. It wasn't like he'd planned this. It was an assignment and when she thought she was going to be the one getting all naked for the greater good, well that was fine and he just would have to suck it up. But it wasn't because he was the one. He didn't plan on getting naked but she didn't know or care about his intentions. She was only concerned for his safety, both emotional and physical. He knew that. He believed that. Now if only she did.

He walked into the master suite but it was empty. He walked across the hall to the upstairs verandah and found her sitting in the corner on one of the couches. He went over and sat down beside her and waited for her to say something.

"Chuck, we got married right over there. And now the CIA wants you to go screw your ex-fiancé for the greater good. What kind of crap is that?"

"Why is it different when it's me but OK if it was you getting the assignment? You don't think I'd curl up and die a little bit if you had sex with a mark? I wouldn't say a word if you did it but I'd still feel like hell."

"Chuck, it's not the same. I'm trained to do this and I can turn off the emotional impact. You can't do that, Chuck. I know you. It'll eat away at you and end up being another thing we don't discuss."

"Sarah, it has to be me. No one else has the history or connection. She's old news so you don't need to worry or be jealous. But Art's right. It's the logical course of action. I'll try like hell to avoid it but Sarah, I don't think I can be convincing if we have to, you know, screw? I don't even know if I'll be able to… um… perform."

She kissed him gently. "That's the best answer I think I could imagine. I'm sorry I know I'm being unfair and yes, I would expect you to suck it up and go along with it if it were me going to the party but Chuck, I'm only human and I'll be so hurt even though I know it's not 'cheating'. So I'm apologizing in advance."

They talked about the operation, security protocols and also about how they'd definitely need some time off after this. Sarah put her head in Chuck's lap and he stroked her hair until she finally said she felt comfortable facing the others and going over the plans.

"I love you, Chuck, always and forever and don't ever doubt it for a millisecond."

"Wow, a declaration of love and NerdSpeak. Be still my heart."

"Smartass"

**Roberts Estate  
West Palm Beach, FL  
Senatorial Campaign Fund Raiser**

"Chuck, commo check." Sarah was monitoring the commo from the van. Bryce would use the computers to identify anyone Carina photographed at Chuck's direction and report back on identity, threat level and other information.

"Talley up." He was nervous but didn't want it to show. He was uncomfortable with his 'partner' for the evening knowing she was somewhat of a loose cannon and he was uncertain about exactly how he would handle his 'meeting' with Jill Roberts.

"Carina up." Carina sensed Chuck's nervousness and apprehension. It was almost like he had another premonition and the last one he'd had was at the Museum in Los Angeles and after that she always had a healthy respect for his 'feelings'. Now that she knew what the 'special files' were that Chuck had 'consulted' she was even more in awe of him and less than thrilled with her partner, Bryce. She felt nothing but disgust that he'd inflicted the intersect on such a sweet man.

She accepted her role as the bubble-headed trophy girlfriend and knew it would be easy to pull off. She only hoped the mark didn't know her from any joint CIA/DEA operations. If she'd been on one and made her, they were toast.

After presenting their invitations to the flunky at the gate, Carina drove the XKE up to the valet parking attendant, handed him the keys with an admonition that if he put 'one scratch on it and I'll cut your balls off, junior'. She was as bad about her XKE as Sarah was about her Porsche.

"You look great, Carina. Ready to get this done, Shortstuff?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah, Chuck. Let's go find some booze, food and your ex. I'm anxious to see what kind of idiot let you get away and replaced you with the RatBastard." She smiled. It had been a long time since he'd called her 'Shortstuff'.

"Carina, behave yourself. You know Bryce can hear your comments. Don't be mean to your partner. It's unprofessional and beneath you." His remarks were more to soothe Bryce's temper than to show any disagreement.

"Showtime." He squeezed her hand and winked at her. She felt her insides twist. She still had it bad for Chuck and the fact that a wink and a compliment could make her feel so good was proof of it.

They walked down the 'receiving line', greeting their host who, in turn, was evaluating the net worth of those who responded to his invitation. He had little or no intention of spending any of _his_ money on his bid for the Senate. Let others who felt they might benefit foot the bill. He didn't know who Charles Talley was but he had good taste in women. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Talley, and thank you for bringing a little more beauty into my house. I'm Philip Roberts."

Chuck and Carina walked through the remainder of the line. No Jill. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. He always felt dirty after shaking hands with a politician. He knew it was his imagination but he felt that way anyway. "Chuck, don't be nervous." Carina interpreted his hand wiping as drying off sweaty palms.

"Not nervous, Carina. Just hate shaking hands with filth, that's all." Sarah giggled in the commo van and Bryce's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. Chuck had flashed on Philip Roberts' intersect files. Married 3 times, one child, known for authorizing cost overruns on government projects and had been censured twice by the GSA for 'padding' his profits. And yet he still got the government contracts. Earmarks were his standard beneficiaries. His opponent was against earmarks and made no secret about Roberts' companies benefiting from 'preferential treatment'.

Chuck leaned down and spoke quietly into Carina's ear figuring if Jill spotted anyone talking into a 'cuff mike' she'd make them as agents. Carina had a mike in her right ear so that it would appear that Chuck was whispering 'sweet nothings' into his escort's ear.

"Sarah, the retiring senator is here. He's got some weak links to Fulcrum. Most of his activities were before I even got on-line if you know what I mean. Apparently his senility is catching up with him. No recent contacts or flashes on the retiring geezer."

Carina laughed outright and anyone observing them would think that Chuck had made some witty comment and the gold digger on his arm was making sure he knew it was appreciated. Typical West Palm party with typical air headed arm candy escorts. Nothing new about that.

Chuck snagged Carina a champagne cocktail and a bottle of beer for himself. He sighed. More imported chickenpiss. Carina chuckled. "Chuck, you don't serve Bud at a shindig like this. So man up and drink your imported 'chickenpiss'." Chuck leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, a lingering kiss, and to the casual observer exactly what was expected from the couple.

'Do that again, Chuck, and I'll wrap my tongue around yours and you won't want to go back to Sarah. Oh, the things we could have done.' Carina knew it was a cover kiss but didn't care. The old feelings and sensations rushed out of the place she'd hidden them and the kiss left her breathless and wanting more.

"Ch-Chuck? Ch-Chuck B-B-Bartowski?" Chuck heard a breathy voice he'd last heard at Stanford. Jill. He turned and there she was wearing a white linen sleeveless dress and looking like she hadn't aged a day.

"Jill, please follow me and don't say another word, please. Carita, thank Evelyn for me and add whatever you need to the tab. Wander around, maybe you'll find someone to spend some 'quality time' with. Sorry, this is totally unexpected. I'm really sorry, Canola, but please, this is someone I haven't seen in… forever."

"It's Carina, Mr. Talley, and that's OK. I'll just hang around in case you need me. I won't be in the way but still available." And she totally broke protocol and leaned up and kissed him. She knew she was going to catch it from Sarah but what the hell, if she was high-priced escort she might as well get paid.

He smiled at her and leaned down and whispered in her ear mike, "Don't hurt her, Sarah, she's still working on self-control."

"That's fine. I think it might be a good idea, actually." Carina walked away, hips swaying and radar on full, towards the bar where she could hang out and observe and report and also keep an eye on Jill's 'detail'. She'd seen Roberts flash a sign to her detail telling them to remain in place. Chuck missed it but then his mind was probably calculating probabilities of various courses of action. It was up to her to cover his ass.

* * *

He turned and took Jill by the hand and pulled her out into a rear garden. "Mr. Talley, she called you 'Mr. Talley'. Chuck, you're dead. I saw it on TV. The whole world saw the Museum massacre. I cried for you, Chuck. And you're here, alive? How?" She was obviously flustered and that was good for the cover and for his chances of actually getting out of here alive. He'd flashed on four Fulcrum thugs, one was a Secret Service Agent, the rest, CIA losers. And they appeared to be _her_ protective detail and thankfully they'd remained behind. He must have missed her signal somehow.

"I was doing some work for the government and someone thought to make a quick buck kidnapping me and auctioning me off to the highest bidder. Idiots didn't know that the civilian version was already being shipped to the retailers and no one would ransom me. The government version was a bit more involved and I had a thing they called a 'protective detail' and they're the ones who staged the rescue and my 'death'. I ended up here, finished my work, got into WitSec and now I'm retired. I'm not dead, Jill, just rich as Midas and bored as hell."

He reached over and wiped a tear from her cheek. She always was a great actress.

"The last time I saw you I was with Bryce Larkin at the BuyMore in Burbank. You burned him so badly I thought he'd break down in tears. Chuck, he and I, well, I, oh to hell with it, I worked for the frikkin' CIA and he was my partner."

"He screwed you as a loyalty test and then he screwed me as a test, too. I had to cut all ties with my former life and that meant cutting you out of my life. That was how I was instructed to do it. It was the way it was done that hurt you, Chuck, but I'd have been gone from your life anyway."

"Yeah, I remember walking in on you two, him in about 2 feet and you with your legs wrapped around him making sounds like a hog wallowing in mud. Well, it hurt, Jill, it hurt a lot but guess what? I found someone. Yeah, me, the Nerd Loser, I found someone special and I married her. And then she died. One of _you _secret agents killed her instead of me. So excuse the fuck out of me if your tale of woe falls a bit short on the 'hurt' scale."

"Lynn was never supposed to have married you, Chuck, never! One of Arthur Graham 'girls' was going to have that duty unless you finally bent to the will of the Agency. But then you always were a stubborn bastard."

"Y-You know about Lynn? What? Is my personal life a training module at Spy High? I mean, Jesus, Jill, first you and then Lynn? Who's next? Huh? Tell me so I can be ready for my next heartbreak! And who the hell is Arthur Graham?"

"It doesn't have to be that way, Chuck. I'm with another agency, a clandestine group that feels things are going the wrong way. I know Larkin sent you the intersect. I know that Walker burned you in Sand Springs even though Graham set her up for the future. I don't know how you escaped but Larkin put you up on our radar. We know you're the intersect."

"We want you to join us. Chuck, we can finally be together. The two of us. Imagine, unlimited power and unlimited wealth. It's all ours for the taking, Chuck. Come with me. Larkin's taken care of your partner, the blonde, Walker. How could you ever have been taken in by her, _again_? And that DEA whore you were with is just collateral damage, Chuck. Someone else will take care of her. Now, let's go, now, we need to be away from here when it goes down."

* * *

Sarah had been monitoring the entire conversation and was about to key the alert for the strike team to move in when she felt the muzzle of a pistol in her side. "Sorry, Sarah, but you're expendable whether he joins us or not." Always the one for melodrama, Bryce Larkin leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and was about to pull the trigger when Sarah plunged one of her knives into his brain by way of his left eye socket. "Bastard traitor. How's that karma working out for you? Chuck warned you, Bryce."  


* * *

"What? What are you talking about? Insect? What partner? Bryce is here? That son of a bitch!"

Jill sighed. "OK, Chuck. It didn't have to be this way but I see you're still always 'doing the right thing.' Well, _you're_ not the 'right thing'. You're an abomination and if you won't join us, you'll just have to die!"

"Wait, first you say you want to be together again and now you think I'm an 'abomination'? What is it with you government types? You're all fucking nuts. Me marry a secret agent? That's bullshit, Jill. But I'll make you a deal instead. So hear me out without trying to kill me."

"We leave here and go someplace far away without anyone knowing. We can be together but only after you answer some questions. I can guarantee you no jail, no sanction, just a better life. Come with me, Jill, please. It's your only chance for something better and all in exchange for answering some simple questions, nothing more. I guarantee you no physical duress and I'll be with you all the time. What do you say?"

He closed the distance and pulled her into an embrace. She was stiff and unyielding. He stepped back releasing her from his encircling arms.

She pulled a small silenced automatic from her purse and aimed it and pulled the trigger, four times, each time watching as the blood bloomed over her former lover's stomach and chest.

* * *

Sarah pushed Bryce Larkin's body off her and keyed the alert and signaled the strike team to move in. They'd already marked the four scumbags who were Jill's 'protective detail' and would take them out first. She was up and out of the commo van and running to the rear garden when she heard Carina shout "Chuck's down, oh God, it's bad." Her pace faltered for a moment and then picked up, fueled by adrenalin. 'No, NO! Not now, not now.'

"Carina, where's Jill Roberts?"

"Don't know, don't care. It's bad, Sarah, so much blood, get the medics in here. To hell with Jill. We'll hunt the bitch down and kill her later. Slowly. We'll take turns, Sarah, and we'll make it last until we don't hurt anymore."

Sarah ran around the corner of the house and ran right into Jill Roberts coming from the rear garden. The force of the collision knocked both women down and left them gasping for breath. Jill was fumbling for her purse when Sarah jammed a blade into her hand, pinning it to the ground inches away from the purse.

"You just shot my husband, you skank. If he dies I'll remove your skin from your ugly body and roll you in salt and then I'll let Carina have you. And then, well, Graham might be interested in what remains, but then again, maybe not."

She secured her with zip ties and left her with one of the black-clad strikers. She had to find Chuck.

Instead she found Carina, still kneeling on the patio, her hands covered with a light coating of congealing blood. "Carina, where's Chuck? Carina, Carina, c'mon little sis, where's Chuck?" It was obvious she was in shock or near to it. For a trained agent, that was not a good sign.

She slapped her across the face. "Where. Is. My. Husband, Carina?"

"He's gone, Sarah." Sarah gasped and tried to control the urge to vomit. He was gone. Where? Oh, no, she didn't mean…dead?

"Where is he, Carina? Gone where?"

"The paramedics took him out on a stretcher. I waited for you. You need to go to him, Sarah. Don't let him die alone among strangers…"

"Let's go. He'll need us both, Carina. We're all he has left." She helped the shorter agent to her feet, ignoring the sticky blood that coated her hands and where she'd wiped tears from her face.

The front of the house was mass confusion. Police cruisers, SWAT vehicles, agents and law enforcement all milling about checking out the guests. She saw the Strike Team Ambulance parked beside the commo van with a cordon of strikers around it. She knew that's where she'd find her husband.

As they approached the ambulance two paramedics swooped down and picked Carina up and put her on a stretcher. "Put me down, idiots, it's his blood, not mine! Where is he?"

Sarah started walking over to the ambulance when two strong arms wrapped themselves around her and a voice said, "I kept my promise, Sarah, I wore a vest". She froze, unable to move and fighting back tears. "You saved my life again, Agent Talley, and you didn't even have to be there to do it. You just made me promise to wear a vest. That's 3 times you saved me, Sarah. Let's go home and start growing as old as we can together."

She turned around, still in his arms and looked at her husband. Husband. It had a new meaning now. "Let's find Carina. You freaked her out, Chuck. She thought you were dead and she said you were all covered in blood." She pushed herself away and looked at his chest and stomach. The blood was still oozing out of the fabric.

"Chuck, what the hell? You're still bleeding? Get over to the paramedics, you're still bleeding!" She almost hit him when he laughed at her and walked over to Carina and took her face in his hands and licked the blood off her cheek. Carina looked glassy-eyed whether from his actions or the impact of his actions she didn't know. "Mmmm, raspberry, Carina. I love raspberry."

Carina focused on Chuck and then on Sarah. "You son of a bitch. You had blood bags? Impact wounds? But you were out cold! I know. Your pulse was thready and you were unconscious."

"Well, those things stung and the two to the heart, well, given my history they sort of knocked me out. But yeah, blood bags. Cool, huh? Morgan gave me the idea since wearing the Brit shirt and the ballistic t-shirt Sarah had made for me wouldn't allow blood and I couldn't let her take a head shot so I put in a lot of Ziploc bags of raspberry Jell-O mixed with water. Looked real as hell, didn't it?"

"You wore my t-shirt, too? Oh, Chuck, thank God. I never even thought to suggest them to you."

"Well, a promise is a promise, Sarah. And I promised you I'd wear a vest on missions. You didn't think I'd forget, did you? After all you went through to get this stuff? Hell yeah, I wore them. Good thing, too. Very effective at stopping the broken ribs and internal injuries. Why the last time back in L.A." He said no more as Sarah stopped him with a chaste kiss and whispered, "You always ramble on when you're nervous, my love, what's wrong?"

"I should have realized Bryce was a double-agent. Some of the things he's said, I just didn't make the connection. He sat right next to you and could have killed you at any time. Where is he? Is he in custody or did he escape, again?"

"He kissed me in the commo van so I killed him, Chuck. That was the last straw. I'm a married woman and he took liberties with…" Now Chuck silenced her with a kiss.

"Carina, you feel well enough to supervise taking Roberts into Miami and seeing to it she's looked after? You OK, Shorts?"

"Yeah, boss, I'm fine. Just don't ever do that to Sarah or me again. My God, I thought you were dead and I told Sarah you were dead. I think Jill needs some quality time with Sarah and me before she goes underground. What do you think, Sarah?"

"I told her if she hurt my husband I'd peel off her skin and roll her in salt and then let you have her, Carina. I guess she's sufficiently cowed that you might be able to be in on the interrogation if it suits you."

"Oh, my, yes. That skank…"

"Ladies, please, all this talk of violence, it's, well, it's very upsetting to me. I mean, really, Sarah, peeling off her skin and rolling her in salt… most disgusting thing I've ever heard. What you should do is put her in 5-point restraints and put headphones on her and set an iPod to play Tiny Tim's Greatest Hits on repeat, or maybe Barry Manilowe? She'll be talking in hours, maybe less. Of course, that's right up there on the no-no list with waterboarding and pulling out fingernails but this _is_ for the greater good, right?"

**Charah House  
After Action Report  
Teleconference 11pm**

Arthur Graham was in a tremendously good mood. "Great work, team. Roberts was singing like a bird within 15 minutes of going into detention. We have names of infiltrators and moles so far up the government's butt it's a wonder anything gets done. She's identified agents, retired agents, even some in agency recruitment stages still in college or the military. Of course, our recruiting efforts will terminate immediately and they'll be placed on 'watch list' status."

"So, how much duress was involved, or did you use drugs?" Carina was curious. She hadn't been allowed to witness or participate in any interrogations. She just had the immense satisfaction of delivering that skank traitor to Miami and seeing the look on her face when the guard pressed "B" on the elevator. Everyone knew what awaited her in the basement.

**_Carina's Flashback_**

_The stark reality of her situation hit Jill Roberts hard and she started to cry, begging them to let her talk to Chuck Bartowski. She wouldn't mention that to Sarah or Chuck. No sense adding more tension. She had, however, had one parting shot._

_"The agent Larkin was assigned to kill in the commo van, Jill? Remember how you told him she'd burned him in Sand Springs and how could he be stupid enough to trust her again, remember?"_

_Roberts just nodded, sickly pale and shivering whether from shock or fear, Carina didn't care._

_"Well, __I was the one who burned Chuck in Sand Springs, not Sarah Walker. And he forgave me and then went and found his Sarah and married her, Jill, you hear me? The agent you were going to have 'taken care of' by Larkin was his brand-new wife. Think about that, Jill, think about that when you're waiting for the feds to slip the needle in your arm and execute you for treason."_

_"Chuck offered you an out, a chance at redemption, and what did you do? You shot him four times. Four! And you enjoyed it, didn't you? Well, I'll enjoy every day I get to spend above ground and it'll be because I'll know you're down here waiting for the needle, Jill. And that Chuck's in the sun with his Sarah, the way it always was supposed to be."_

"Agent Hansen, are you back with us?" Graham knew she was thinking about the brief elevator trip.

"Yes, sir, sorry." She was embarrassed but not ashamed. That had been one of the most honest moments in her short life.

"Carina, the comments you made to her in the elevator more than anything else broke her spirit and her will. Excellent job. I think I may have underestimated you. Your insights into her character broke her will. You made the difference, Carina, you should be proud of yourself. I am."

Chuck and Sarah beamed at Carina. Sarah tousled her hair, something she knew she hated. "Good job, little sis."

"That's it unless any of you have any questions?"

"Yes, Director, any progress on replacing Chuck's boat?" Sarah was relentless in her pursuit of her goal. Both of them loved that boat. He, because of what it represented and she, because of the fun they would have and because it was important to her husband.

"Working on it, Sarah. Not at the top of my list, though, to be honest but I'll get it done in time for the honeymoon to Havana." Graham disconnected and the CIA logo floated across the screen.

"Chuck, is there some little teeny tiny thing you might have forgotten to mention to me? Havana! Who's bright idea was that? Jesus, Chuck, Havana? You're the intersect. You cannot go to a foreign country on vacation, not even Canada, let alone Cuba!" She was steamed.

Carina just giggled and left, muttering about 'love birds' and went to the workout room to relieve some of her tension. Maybe she'd drive down to Boynton Beach tomorrow and hang around the Two Georges. There were a couple of cute guys who drank there in the afternoon, locals with no baggage to bring to any short-term relationship.

"I already told Graham 'no' but he's a persistent bastard. I told him 'no' and he hinted around that we didn't have a choice so I demanded an extraction plan for the both of us or I would refuse and take you and run. I thought he'd given up on the idea but I guess I was wrong."

"Sorry I blew up at you. It's just that we've got so much to lose now, Chuck, and it seems like such a needless risk to me. What did he say when you told him you wanted an extraction plan before agreeing?"

"I told him I wanted an extraction plan for both of us, Sarah, before I'd even listen to the mission. Both of us, understand? I won't go without you and I sure as hell won't go knowing there's no out for us. I still don't trust him, Sarah. I know you do, but I don't."

Sarah took their coffee cups into the kitchen and came back with two Buds instead. "Come on, lover boy, let's go up on our verandah and talk about some things. Like why you threatened to run if he pushed Cuba and also the thing that's been bothering you since this afternoon's little fiasco. I know you well enough to know something more that Larkin being a traitor is bothering you so come on. I'll listen, I promise, and no quick judgments."

"Go on up, Sarah. I'm going to do my endurance swim. I've kind of let it slide and I need to stay as fit as possible for your enjoyment…" He laughed at the look on her face and went into kitchen and mudroom to change. "Won't be more than 30 minutes, promise. And then we'll talk about all the things we've been avoiding since Burbank."

* * *

That shook her up a bit. 'What things? Since Burbank? I thought we'd settled all our differences and problems since we got here. What have I missed that it's been on his mind since _Burbank_?' She went up to take a quick shower and get ready for bed. And apparently a long-overdue discussion about things she was unaware were bothering her husband. 'What could he possibly be worried about since _Burbank_? I've racked my brain but there are no unanswered questions, no issues, nothing I can think of. Damn his insecurities. Things couldn't be better. What have I overlooked?'

Chuck took his iPhone and called Graham.

"Graham secure."

"Talley, secure. Art, Jill told me some things I didn't want to bring up in front of the others and it's personal and I don't think it has any business in any reports. I need you to clarify a remark she made. It's important to me, Art."

"Well, what did she say that's got you so upset? Nothing about assassination or any crap like that? Surely, Chuck, by now you know how those people operate. Deception, half-truths, outright lies, any thing to further their agenda."

"Really? Sounds just like where I work, Art. Look, things got heated and we were talking about Lynn and she said Lynn was never supposed to have married me and that 'one of Arthur Graham 'girls' was going to have _that duty_' unless I joined the Agency. And she was pretty clear it wasn't going to be her, so who was it?"

"Who, Art? Which of your 'girls' was going to have to marry me for 'duty'? I want to know. I _have to know_, please, it's important to me."

There was a sigh on the other end of the conversation. "I think you already know who, son, because you married her. She hadn't received any orders to marry you, Chuck, so don't think for one minute it isn't real. It is."

"It's just funny how everything worked out. She wanted to retire, Chuck, and her supervisor told her she couldn't, not unless she opted for a long-term assignment like yours. And she picked you, Chuck, out of all the possibilities. I remember her talking to Cathy about it. She said she thought she could grow to love you over time. You were her first and only choice, Chuck. She was burned out and getting sloppy. It would only be a matter of time until she was killed or worse and she knew it. She was scared, Chuck."

"So don't you dare judge her, Chuck. You have no right, none at all. Her refusal to marry you was real. She was damaged goods and she was terrified you wouldn't want her, wouldn't love her, if you knew. She didn't know I hadn't purged the redacted records from her file after the refresher you got. She didn't know what you knew. So don't think for one minute anything she says or does about you two is faked, because it isn't. Not one bit."

"Your marriage is the real deal, Chuck, just like Cathy and mine was. Just don't do anything foolish like confronting her with all this unless you want a divorce. She won't stay if she thinks you doubt her love, her sincerity or her commitment to you. She'll leave and even I won't be able to find her. So go slow and gentle, Chuck. Don't lose this."

"Thanks, Art. I have something to do and then I want to discuss Cuba again. Talk to you tomorrow, I promise. Hey, no hospital this time. Your budget-crunching gnomes must be pleased."

"They are, very, so stay healthy. Stay safe, you three. I'll send Carina a new partner. A woman this time. She'll add something to the mix, that's for damned sure." He laughed and hung up leaving Chuck wishing he'd made this call a lot earlier in the game.

He took off his swimsuit and picked up his clothes and went up to their suite. A new partner for Carina? A woman? Yeah, it would definitely be interesting. But now he had a new mission from Art.

* * *

Sarah was in the shower, just letting the water beat down on her as she wondered what Chuck wanted to discuss. She wasn't exactly apprehensive but she didn't like surprises and she was afraid this one would be unpleasant. Just when things were going so right for them he has to bring this up. Damn him and his insecurities. It must have been something that bitch said to him that rattled him so much. She'd listen to the tapes tomorrow and see what she might have missed thanks to that asshole Larkin.

Chuck heard the shower running and went and got his iPod and dock and moved it out onto their verandah. He wondered again why he never used it before.

When he opened the shower door it looked as if she'd been crying or maybe it was just water in her eyes. He reached over and took her shampoo down from the shelf and slipped between her and the wall and squeezed a big gob on his hands and began lathering her hair. She leaned into him and he could almost hear her purr.

She leaned up to kiss him and he turned his head and said "later, believe me, a kiss and more later." He wiped a bit of lather off her forehead and continued his task. When he was done rinsing out the soap he took down her conditioner and repeated the process. She stood leaning against him, a loose embrace keeping her upright.

Once the hair was finished he took her body wash and washed her entire body just as she'd done with him after his return from Cuba, using only his hands and the lather. He rinsed her off with the hand-held sprayer and then picked her up and carried her, both of them still dripping, out to the verandah and flicked on the iPod to the Tango.

Her eyes widened and then she smiled as they began the dance.

* * *

Hours later, fully sated and wrapped in his arms she asked Chuck what he wanted to talk about that had been bothering him since Burbank.

"Absolutely nothing at all, Sarah. It's all history and it's all good. I just had to be reminded of some things and your 'uncle' cleared the air. No problems, no worries, no regrets."

"Chuck, tell me what you were worried about. Please. I need to know. It's been bothering you all this time and I can't believe you never said anything. You know we can talk about anything, baby, anything at all. No 'need to know' shit between us, ever. So come on, tell me."

"Sarah, it's not necessary and I don't need to talk about it. Never, ever, again. It's history, really."

"Chuck, I really want to know. Please. It's going to come between us if you don't. I don't want any secrets between us, understand? Please, for me."

Chuck sighed. He should have made that call after he moved to Florida. So much could have been avoided. Jill's comment had just opened up a nearly-healed wound.

"When I was trying to convince Jill to come back she threw some things in my face. She said Lynn was never supposed to have married me and that 'one of Arthur Graham 'girls' was going to have _that duty_' unless I joined the Agency. And she was pretty clear it wasn't going to be her. So I called Art and asked him."

"Chuck, listen, please, hear me out."

"No, Sarah, hear me out. I know it's not 'duty' with you, Sarah. I know it's love because you wouldn't marry me when you thought I'd find out your 'deep and dark secrets'. That means it wasn't duty, it was love and that's enough proof for me. That and the fact that you're here now. Forever. So enough talk. Want to dance?"

"Chuck, please, let me talk. I know you believe me but I need to tell you everything. I should have done it before. You're my terminal assignment but it's not like 'terminal' it's more like 'last'. The 'terminal' part referred to me. We're both in a place now where we can never quit. We can retire when we reach maximum age or if disabled, but we can't ever quit. Never. So I picked a guy I thought I could love who needed a perpetual handler. Now, don't look at me like that, I picked you, warts and all."

"And I had no help from Art. I didn't know anything about your past, your 'Justice' stuff, none of it. I just saw a nice guy who I felt I could be friends with and eventually love. The fact that you were married didn't enter in to it. Lynn would have left you, Chuck, whether you had kids or not. It was her duty and she would have done it despite what you read in her journals, she would have. You have no idea of the pressures they would have brought on you. They would have tried to pick you up and use you. I know, sounds inhumane and cruel, but look at us. We're here now."

"And you wanted me in your life, me, the damaged CIA agent, the one you took to the beach, the one you thought you'd lost to Bryce, the one you made the garden for at the office, the one you took out on your motorcycle and the one you thought betrayed you in Sand Springs and yet still found necessary in your life."

"I planned on being around, Chuck, even if on the periphery, of your life. I was never the intended assassin. In fact, Art promised me a warning so I could take you off the grid and keep you safe. All this now, well, this is a dream come true, icing on the cake, money in the bank. It's more than I could ever hope for.

EndGreenEyedGirl19


	20. A little Faith goes a long way

BeginGreenEyedGirl20

A/N: A little Faith goes a long way. NO! Not a love-toy for Carina. Fem/slash – yech. And no Chuck/Faith either.

* * *

Faith Ward drove her Toyota Prius across the drawbridge and onto the A1A and turned north toward West Palm Beach. She was appalled at the conspicuous consumption displayed by these disgustingly wealthy socialites who'd probably made their money the old way, through inheritance. She'd seen enough of these rich people in Miami where she'd grown up.

She'd received her assignment from the Director himself and he had stressed that a failure to carry out her duties would be potentially fatal to her career. She's been in the Agency 11 years and knew what 'fatal' meant. She'd been assigned to an NSA Special Surveillance Team and was lucky to have escaped the purges after Beckman's disgraceful treason. Graham had stressed that this was a 'very special' team and that she would receive a full briefing when she arrived in Lantana.

_Charah House_. Damn. Talk about conspicuous consumption gone wild! She drove up the drive to the house and wondered again at Graham's comment and how he'd stressed 'special' as if it was the Holy Grail or something. She sighed and whispered a silent plea to a God she could no longer imagine existing that she wouldn't mess up. She sucked at first impressions.

* * *

Sarah watched the monitor as the small car pulled up into the driveway and stopped in front of the brick stairway leading up to the house. Her house. Their house. She still couldn't get over the steps he'd taken to make a 'home' for her, the lengths to which he'd gone to win back someone he could never lose except through death.

Her sigh was one of great happiness. The only thing that would make her happier was if the damned pregnancy test would show '_**YES**_' instead of the consistent '_**NO**_'. She wanted a baby to round out her perfect family. She giggled when the thought popped into her mind '_well, we'll just have to keep trying'_. Oh, how she loved trying. And oh, God, how she loved the crazy but brilliant man she'd married – finally.

Faith was about to ring the bell when an older Hispanic woman opened the door and welcomed her to 'Charah House' and asked her to wait in the living room while she notified Mrs. Talley of a guest. Yuppies. How she hated yuppies. And a maid? Oh, God.

She looked around the room marveling at how she felt very comfortable there. There was nothing outlandish and she mentally remarked how everything was pretty much what she'd buy if she were the owner furnishing the place and had a lot of money to spend. It was…comfortable and inviting.

"Hi, I'm Sarah Talley. You must be Faith Ward, our new team member. Welcome to Team Talley. Chuck's doing rehab and Carina's keeping a watchful eye on him. He tends to get into the damnedest messes if he's left 'unsupervised' for any length of time."

Her comments were in the form of a test but also the truth. He was a trouble magnet. She wanted to gauge her reaction to what could be seen as criticism of the Team leader.

Faith bridled a bit at what she thought was a condescending tone in the woman who'd introduced herself as 'Sarah Talley'. "Seems to me he's done quite well for a trouble magnet. Took out a slaver's ship single handed, took down a frikkin' traitor and scuttled a Fulcrum senatorial candidate. I'd call that outstanding. We must have different definitions of 'trouble', Agent Talley."

She was not disappointed although a little surprised. She relaxed her grip on the 9mm she held casually behind her back and offered her hand to the new Agent.

"It's Sarah, and he's Chuck and your partner is Carina. We're still laid-back California here. Chuck insists. Oh, and I hope you don't get seasick. We spend a lot of time on the new boat. And before either of us makes another mistake like I did, let me tell you how all this came about."

"Hey, Amelia, come here and meet the new team member. And bring coffee for the three of us". Sarah's shout surprised Faith. It seemed so…unforced and commonplace.

"Si, _hija_, I'm coming. Coffee and some of those cookies the jefe likes. Perhaps Agent Ward would prefer tea or a beer?" Faith's jaw dropped. The 'help' called the senior agent 'daughter' and Talley 'jefe' and referred to her by title and name.

Sarah caught the look and giggled.

Faith's eyebrows disappeared into her raven hair line. Her blue eyes were open wider than she'd thought possible. Senior agents do not giggle. What in the world had she stumbled into, _National Lampoon's CIA_? At 33 she thought she heard or seen almost every type of unit in the intelligence business but this one…

"Amelia would cut your heart out if you tried to harm Chuck. It's a long story and I'll get into it all when she brings the coffee. If you'd prefer a beer or iced tea, just yell. Like I said, we're informal here, but come mission-time, don't confuse a lack of formality with a lack of competence. Others have made that mistake and didn't live to regret it. Like Diane Beckman."

"Wait, _he's_ the one who…" she started to say but stopped when Amelia brought coffee and a plate of home made cookies, still warm. Oh, my, such an improvement from MREs.

Sarah's opinion now hovered between 90 and 100. She approved of the agent's sense of security in spite of Sarah's earlier comments. This one was a keeper. She figured Chuck's approval would be automatic and she was so rarely wrong about how he thought.

Sarah launched into the history of Team Talley omitting all references to the intersect. It would be Chuck's pleasure to drop that little bomb on her in private. Amelia was totally trusted but Chuck still refused to even request an OK to bring her into the loop. He just said 'NO' when asked and she knew instinctively that further discussion would not change his mind. She never asked why, just accepted it.

Ninety minutes later and all the coffee was gone as were the cookies. Sarah and Amelia had encouraged Faith to eat them since she could use the extra weight. She blushed and Amelia just laughed and told her that 'hurricane season was almost upon them' and that skinny _Yanqui_ girls would blow away with the first gust.  


* * *

Carina and Chuck returned from the beach and came in through the mudroom into the kitchen. He'd done his swim and then his run and then the two had just sat on the verandah and talked quietly like the friends they'd become. They shared a lot of history, some of it very intimate history but it never got in the way.

While Carina made more coffee, Chuck went up to the master suite and showered and changed. He knew that the new agent was in the living room getting the 'straight skinny' and he hoped Carina was behaving herself. She had a terrible record with partners.

"So there we were in Mexico and he's got this funny sextant-like thing and he's measuring an angle, then he takes out a compass and the next thing I know he's mooning an NSA satellite that he knows Graham monitors. I tell you, the man's demented…but in such a nice way." Carina told the tale not realizing it stirred up a shit-storm in Sarah's mind. She absolutely hated 'Chuck and Carina' stories more even than 'Sarah and Bryce' stories.

Faith Ward managed not to laugh after seeing and recognizing the look on Sarah Talley's face. She'd seen it on her mother's face when Faith's step-father had talked about his first wife who'd passed away from cancer a year after they were married. Love mixed with bitter resentment.

Chuck was standing in the kitchen pouring coffee and listening to the last part of Carina's tale. He'd asked her not to do this around Sarah, not to bring up the past and rub her face in it, although honestly, it was his face that was being rubbed. He'd been the idiot who'd doubted Sarah Walker and had walked into the spider web spun by a lusty and smitten Carina Hansen aided and abetted by that POS Arthur Graham. He shook his head and walked into the living room, dreading the look he'd get from Sarah that promised a chilly bed and the flirtatious one from Carina that promised to warm it for him.

"Hi, I'm Chuck Talley. You must be Faith. I see the briefing has gotten to the 'and then he…' stage. If Sarah said it, it's true. If Carina said it then it's probably true in parts but she does tend to embellish.'

She started to stand but he motioned her to keep her seat. Not big on ceremony or trappings of office at all, she was glad to see. Some Team Leaders were sticklers for ass-kissing and formality, but not this guy.

"I don't know if they got as far as 'quartering' is concerned but we have 5 bedrooms here and only two are occupied so you have your choice. It's convenient, it's cheap – as in free – it's well appointed and most times you have privacy unless we have mission planning or someone from my Company comes over and that would be Morgan. He knows absolutely nothing about this. Keep it that way."

She raised an eyebrow and said "Company? As in CIA or a commercial venture outside of all this?" She gestured around taking in the house.

"'All this' is owned by Sarah and I as the only stockholders in my software company, CharahCorpIntl. Well, Morgan has a piece now and that's only fair since he basically runs all the operation himself, he and his wife, Anna. You'll meet them socially when I have them over for drinks and BBQ sometime soon I would think. They've got a house over on the waterway, Boynton Beach side."

"And the cars and boat are ours, too. I got rich just at the right time. Low real estate prices, banks with toxic assets, got this place for less than half its appraised value. Sweet deal."

"Now your cover here is that you're a new addition to our corporate security team that consists of you and Carina. We've had issues with our previous members, terminal issues." He glanced over at his wife and saw the small smile creeping over her face. Terminal indeed. First Casey and then Bryce.

He focused on the newest member and saw her eyebrows bury themselves in her hairline. Oh, but he wished they could play poker with this one. She had at least two tells he could already discern.

"Anyhow, that's it in a nutshell. A little later you and I will go for a walk around the property and I'll fill you in on some other details as well as go over the security arrangements. We've had an attempted 'home invasion' but they never made it off the beach. I'm sure Carina will have a story or three to tell you about that one. She'll also go over the internal security arrangements, the gun safes in each room and the commo equipment. So, go get yourself a room and get situated. Dress here is casual although Carina has a tendency to flaunt the word. Amelia keeps her in line, isn't that right, Shortstuff?"

Carina blushed and nodded. They had become 'friends' in a loose definition of the word but she'd never be Amelia's favorite team member. Too much history.  


* * *

Faith soon discovered that 'dinner' with the Talley's was a round table, sit down and eat and talk nightly event. Since there was nothing on the mission board the conversation had been all over the place from politics to family to some history not covered in the briefings. The first thing that came up was 'The Boat' and the on-going battle Sarah was waging with 'The Pimp' as Chuck referred to the director of the CIA/NSA Special Operations Directorate, Arthur Graham.

"He's your foster father, Sarah? No kidding? And Carina's your foster sister? That's wild. This place is so civilized and…nice. Beats the hell out of my last assignment."

"Faith, let's take that orientation walk around the property. Bring your beer and I'll grab a couple more." He got up, kissed his wife and ruffled Carina's hair and went into the kitchen for the beer and a flashlight. There were some things he knew they wouldn't get to before dark. Sarah smiled and Carina just blushed.

"I generally swim down to the Lantana light and back at night. My endurance sucks since some…events and the doctors are wigging out over a possible problem with my aorta. My wife shot me in Los Angeles and it's never quite been as good as new. But that's my problem."

"Tell me about the mission in Laredo, Faith. And tell me why you broke cover and refused to take the shot." He was not looking at her but watching the waves kiss the sand as they walked down the beach.

She stopped walking and so did he. He turned around and repeated his question with a slightly different approach. "The Laredo mission was a failure and two highly sought-after narco-terrorists escaped back over the border. You mission was to kill them. You didn't. I want to know why you failed to carry out your orders. The real reason, not the bullshit you gave the review board, Faith. This stays between you and me."

"They had their wives and kids with them. They weren't being narco-terrorists, they were on a frikkin' vacation in the states getting the kids some special medical treatment. It wasn't a question of taking the shot, Agent Talley. It wasn't a shoot 'n scoot. We'd put cratering charges in the road and I was the one responsible for confirming their ID's and detonating the charges. There were kids in the car. I couldn't do it."

"Good for you. I demand that my teammates have a well-defined 'moral compass' and use it. Sometimes you have to weigh the good and bad but most times doing the 'right' thing is the correct thing. You did the correct thing and that's why I requested your assignment to fill our vacancy."

"Wait, Director Graham told me it was my last chance assignment. He said nothing about a requested assignment!"

"You know how to tell when Art's lying?" He looked her square in the face and she shook her head.

"His lips move." He didn't smile and Faith had the nagging suspicion that he truly believed what he said to be true. She shook her head and walked on down the beach and Chuck just grinned and followed her.

"He's a dear friend I've know since I was 15 but I don't trust him and you shouldn't either. Still, I owe him my life, my wife and a lot more. So I tolerate him. Now, one more piece of information. Have you ever heard of the Omaha Project?"

Faith had heard about some sci-fi project designed to put intelligence information into an agent's subconscious to be used instinctively of missions and told him so.

"That's bull. The project was an attempt to download the entire intelligence database into the brains of assets who would function as human intersects. It was only done successfully once."

"Only 16 people know the identity of the intersect host, Faith, only 16 people in the entire world. Now, you're #17. Betray me and there's no place you'll be able to hide from the wrath of my team so if you plan on running your mouth you'd best be certain my team is dead first, especially Carina."

"Y – Y – You're the Intersect? You're Bartowski, the LA Museum, the Ebola freighter guy…but you're dead! I saw it on TV along with a million other people. A blonde…oh my God, Sarah is the one who shot you, you weren't kidding when you said your wife shot you… holy shit!"

"You need to calm down, Faith, take deep breaths. It's not that big a deal. Right place at the right time, that's all. No super hero crap. Just an ordinary guy who can remember shit, that's all. Now, here's another beer. Figured you'd need it. It's funny, really. I mean out of 6 billion people I get the nod. You going to drink that beer or throw up?" He laughed and walked back to the house. He still had to show her the passive and active defenses.  


* * *

A/N: Setting up for the next 20 chapters. Morgan and Anna will appear. And probably die. Not sure. Morgan is annoying.

Armor-Plated-Rat


	21. Sick Sarah is Sidelined

A/N_: Since it's been ages since I've posted anything at all worth reading, remember that Arthur Graham here works only as Morgan Freeman and I've decided that Faith is Lena Headey of '300' fame. _

_I've finally said 'uncle' to the whole eyeball thing and have told the collective medical community to kiss my Irish patootie and I've decided to hell with all of them. I'll look right dashing in an eye patch._

_Sorry for all the delays. I've got limited access to internet service here. Their WiFi suxs enormously._

_Someone else typed this. I hope to hell Nicole remembered to spellcheck. You good authors have betas – I got me a hunnie input clerk…lol_

APR

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Morgan and Anna Wu Grimes were regular fixtures at the Talley household primarily because it gave Chuck 'buddy time' with his best friend and also because he was running the corporation single-handedly and making them all scads of loot.

"So, Chuck, you and Sarah and the twins are thinking about going to Havana? Does that mean we'll need to develop a Spanish language version of the 'Process'?"

"Maybe, Morgan, maybe. It's really too early to tell yet. We're waiting on the insurance companies to finish arguing and either give us the money or a replacement for the _Sarah_ and they're dragging their asses big-time. Sarah has her heart set on sailing to Havana in our boat or she's not going."

In actuality, Arthur Graham was dragging his ass. He'd found two 'replacements' but they were woefully below the standards of the original _Sarah_ but Chuck was not accepting less than the same or better. No way. Sarah was the nag of the family and every email or conference they had either started with or ended with "Director, about the boat…" She also demanded a flying bridge and told 'Uncle Art to move his ass' because she knew he was delaying this out of spite and figured he'd be retired before he absolutely had to deal with it.

Faith was sitting across from the 'dynamic duo' as she'd come to refer to them drinking a beer and hoping Anna would quit pestering her to go shopping. Faith enjoyed shopping. She despised Anna for the primary reason that Sarah had confided that when Chuck's first wife had been killed that Anna had offered him 'consolation' in the form of a 'pity fuck' and she found that unforgivable. Sarah might have to put up with her because of Chuck's friendship but she didn't.

Expect for the disgusting Anna Wu Grimes, she'd found a better life in her new assignment. Her teammates were professionals but loved to have fun and didn't put on airs. Her quarters were luxurious and best of all, free. The jobs they'd done in the 3 months since she'd arrived had all been low-keyed but effective and she found great satisfaction in her work for the first time in years.

She also found herself falling hopelessly in love with her team leader, Chuck Talley. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a man but he was already taken. She kept her feelings to herself, never allowing one instance of mooning over Chuck to be apparent or in any way affect the job, but she was only human and he was…someone else's and that someone else was fast becoming her best friend.

In Sarah Talley, Faith found a friend, one who didn't judge, who had enough skeletons in her own closet to not be concerned with anyone else's and who was always ready to listen, advise and just talk. They'd spent many hours on the verandah just swapping stories, laughing about things in general and finding that they had more in common than they'd have thought.

Faith and Carina had formed a 'protective alliance' as far as Chuck was concerned. Over a few pitchers of Margaritas at the Two Georges Carina had finally 'fessed up' to her own lust for the boss but had also gone into great detail about the 'Sand Springs incident' and Mexico and her crappy behavior that almost got him killed.

Despite all that, he'd still wanted her on the team and he still spent hours with her swimming and rebuilding his endurance and overall health and just talking. His _wife _paid no attention to their relationship because her husband paid such exquisite attention to _her_.

After Morgan and his wife left and the remains of the BBQ had been cleared up, Sarah calmly announced that they had a new mission and it would require Chuck to go undercover with either Carina or Faith in order to infiltrate and identify members of a terrorist sleeper cell operating out of New Orleans.

Their target was either a ULCC ship or the offshore terminal docks. If either was destroyed or damaged the resulting impact on domestic oil supplies and prices would be crippling and prompt a worldwide price war, not to mention the environmental impact on the Gulf of Mexico. Identifying the cell members and leadership was the primary objective and locating their accumulated cache of explosives and other nasty things was secondary.

"Sarah, why can't you and Chuck go as the Talley couple or under another name?"

"Because the principals involved know me from an assignment in Europe when I worked with Bryce Larkin. We failed to eliminate several members of the Chechen cell and they've since relocated to the US. It's unfortunate but that's how it has to be. Also, a dummy corporation has been formed, Barton Industries LTD and Chuck will be using the alias of Charles Barton for obvious reasons."

"So what's our cover?"

"You'll go as Chuck's mistress and business associate investigating possible relocation to New Orleans. The back story is that we're having marital problems and Chuck's planning on moving on without me after restructuring the company and filing for divorce." She was cold and professional but they could all see how this was affecting her.

"The mission will last approximately three weeks and the three of you will work to identify and eliminate the cell leader and members as well as map out their contacts in the US."

"Three of us? But…"

"One of you is the mistress, the other is the business associate. I'll remain here for any logistical or any other support you may require. It's how it has to be. I don't like it but it's a mission requirement. There's an Intelligence Center in New Orleans like the one in Miami. They'll provide any manpower you might need when the takedown occurs. It would be best if none of you were involved in the take-down after Chuck does his thing but we don't know who we can trust in New Orleans."

"Since Carina has a degree from Boston College in applied cybernetics, she'll be my associate and Faith…you and I will become a lot better acquainted." There was gentle laughter but Faith could see how this was affecting Sarah and Chuck.

"We leave in 2 days so get your stuff packed and we'll fly via charter to New Orleans and keep the plane at the Executive Air Center there. That way we can be out of there if things go sour or when the mission's over. Either way, flying commercial is out since we'll have our personal armories with us. Carina, no RPGs and leave the Stingers behind."

"I'll have briefing packages and photos ready for everyone in the morning. Until then, just relax and enjoy your last few nights in Florida. It's cold and rainy in New Orleans." Sarah ended the briefing with a forced smile and walked into the kitchen and up to her room using the back stairs. Chuck followed her after warning Carina about any 'funny stuff' and ruffling her hair because he knew she hated it.

"Any advice, Carina?" Faith was serious.

"Yeah. If he comes at you with a bowl of ice cubes, be prepared to be ravished. Oh, and avoid dancing with him – especially the Tango." She giggled and then told her the best advice she could give. "Seriously, never forget who you are and who he is. And remember, he tells Sarah _everything_."

* * *

Upstairs of the Charah House things were tense and about to explode.

"Sarah, why can't you come with us and set up a hide site so we'll have someplace to fall back to…and I can sneak out and get my Sarah fix for the day?"

"It's not in the mission brief and it's not professional, Chuck. You have your mission and I have mine. Besides, I'm known, well known, to these scum and we don't know how deep this goes into our own intel networks. It wouldn't be wise to risk it, no matter how much I'll miss you, baby."

"Call Art and tell him we pass on this one. It's bothering you too much and I can tell. It's not worth our happiness just to catch one more group of would-be terrorists. I won't work without you, Sarah. That was the deal."

"This is too important. It's more important than us, don't you understand? This is why I didn't want you part of all this as far back as Burbank. This is why spies don't have 'relationships' or permanent attachments, because the damned job can be more demanding that the glue that holds us together."

"Hey, talk to me, sweetheart. Don't you trust me? What more do I have to do to prove to you that I love you and won't leave you? Doesn't all of this mean anything to you?"

"Chuck, I'm sorry. I'm just upset. I don't like you going off without me to cover your back, that's all and … and I just feel so useless. Promise me you'll wear your specials, Chuck. Promise me! I have a terrible sense of … I don't know, I'm afraid, baby, for the first time since we got together here, I'm afraid for you. For us!"

"Hey, remember the 'bug-out' plan I drafted when we first got the company up and running? I think you should spend the time updating it. Maybe spread some of our cash around just in case, y'know? And nothing is going to tear us apart, Sarah. We're stronger together than any force I can imagine. C'mon, I need some expert help in picking out my stuff. You know how bad I am about ties and stuff."

'Yes, Chuck, we are stronger together but we won't be, and that's what's bugging me…we'll be apart and isolated.'

Breakfast the following morning was not the usual affair. The banter and good humor that marked the Talley household was gone and in its place was a stiffness usually found in households with severe problems. Amelia noted the tense atmosphere and took Chuck aside to ask him about it.

"You know Senora Talley wants a child, Jefe, and every day that goes by makes her sadder and sadder. Give her what she wants and needs. A child in this house would bring such gladness and joy."

"She's sad because we're going on a job without her, Amelia. That's all. I've never worked without her nearby and we're both unhappy with it but can do nothing about it. So, please, do what you can to make sure she's kept busy and has little time to brood, for me, okay, Amelia?"

"Of course. But you need to put a baby in her to make her truly happy."

She was almost as bad a nag as Ellie. He'd have to call Ellie and see if she could make it down for a few days to give Sarah some company. Another thing for his to-do list. 1) Knock up Sarah; 2) Call Ellie; 3) Save the world.

Well, he'd definitely try and handle all the items on his list, especially the first. A baby. They'd never discussed it but it did make perfect sense. More glue to keep them together. Yeah, and someone to leave behind if the worst-case scenario came to pass. He'd definitely talk to her before he left.

Sarah just pushed her food around her plate. She'd had a bout of the 24-hour flu earlier in the week and still hadn't been able to keep much down. She'd watched the look on Chuck's face during the briefing and saw doubt, concern and uncertainty flash across it too subtly for anyone but her to notice but she had. She needed to talk with him before he left and assure him that she'd still be here when he came back. Damn his parents!

"Hey, Sarah, up for a walk on the beach?" He'd noticed how little she'd eaten. He was concerned about this flu that seemed to have singled her out and was hanging on. He'd ask her about checking in with a GP in town while he was gone.

"Yeah. Slow walk, though. I'm so tired since this damned flu has hit and it just keeps coming back every few days."

The walked out to the water's edge and then started north along the beach.

"Sarah, have you ever considered having a family? I mean, sure, we're a family, you and I, but I meant having a baby? I'm just curious, babe, not pushing." He saw a look of abject despair cross her beautiful face before being carefully hidden. But he'd seen it.

She stopped walking and just stood there, her arms wrapped around herself as if hugging would make the world a better place. He wrapped her in his hug and whispered that he loved her and needed her and that she was all he ever needed to be happy and that he was sorry he'd mentioned it.

"No, Chuck, don't be sorry. I – I don't think I can get pregnant. I think all the abuse when I was younger, all the problems I've had, well, I don't think I can get pregnant. I'm sorry, Chuck…" and she started to cry, not the 'I'm upset' cry, but more the 'my world is ending' type of cry. He scooped her up like a baby in his arms and walked back to the house and took her up the back stairway to their room and put her on the bed.

"Sarah Walker Talley, you listen to me and you listen good. I do not need a child to feel complete. I have you and I am complete. Sure, a baby would be nice and I'd love to have a little Sarah-clone to spoil and love, but as long as I have you and you still love me, that's enough. Anything more is just greedy."

"Oh, Chuck, I've been off birth control since we got married. I want a child, a little Chuck to love and spoil and watch grow into a man just like his daddy. I want that so much, Chuck, that I cry every morning when the damned stick says 'NO' instead of 'YES'. I want us to have the family neither of us ever had and it kills me that I can't give you that." And she cried and cried until Chuck worried he'd have to send one of the girls out for a sedative from one of their 'special physicians'. Finally she fell asleep although he was sure it was far from restful.

"Dr. Bartowski."

"Ellie, it's Chuck. Sarah's – there's something wrong. She's trying to get pregnant and she can't and it's making her sick. I – I – Sis, can you find a way to break free for a few days and come down here? I have to – go on one of those business trips with the twins and I don't want her to be alone. Please, Ellie, I'll pay for the tickets and arrange for a car at the airport. Please, Ellie…"

"I'll be down as soon as you let me know what my flight schedule is like. Oh, little brother, I was afraid something like this would happen. She's been through hell, Chuck, and I'm sure she's told you about the abuse, the torture, how Director Graham rescued her, her years of therapy that he had her in, but that's in the past. Make the reservations and I'll watch for your call. I'm heading home now to pack."

"Thanks, Ellie, I – I – she never told me anything about that and after Key West I'd hoped she gotten some closure. I guess I don't know her as well as I thought I did."

"Now, Charles Bar – er – Talley, do not start analyzing and second guessing and feeling all guilty about this. None of it is your fault. It happened years before you met and she'd completed therapy. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Ellie. I owe you one."

A/N: At _least three more chapters have been written and will be posted whenever my hunniepot finds the time to transcribe my chicken scratch to disk. It's done. Just needs editing._


	22. Faith Flashes Carina clashes

_A/N: Installments on final round._

_T/N: Sorry about no chapters on 'Aftermath', I didn't really read the chapter break. Sorry/Nicole  
_Chuck walked down into the kitchen and asked Amelia to make sure a room was ready because Dr. Bartowski was coming to spend a few days with Sarah while he was gone. Amelia nodded sadly, feeling guilty that she'd caused such heartache in two people she loved like the children she'd never had herself.

* * *

Chuck made reservations for Ellie leaving BWI later that morning and arriving at 2pm. He told the twins what had happened, although not in any detail but asked them to keep the conversations in safe areas like weapons of mass destruction but to remember that his sister's knowledge of the operation was extremely limited and would stay that way.

He called Ellie with the flight schedule and told her he'd pick her up himself at 2pm in West Palm Beach.

Sarah woke feeling better physically but was still what she'd term 'mentally exhausted' and went looking for her husband. She smiled a quiet smile of delight when Faith told her that Chuck was in West Palm Beach picking up his sister who wanted to stay for a few days and escape 'Iceland'.

She and Amelia had a quick conversation about Chuck's sister and her 'level of knowledge' and then went to brief the 'twins'. She still could not shake the dream she'd had. An oriental woman had told her not to despair and that she would have 'beautiful children'. The woman's face was never visible and Sarah was sure it was just her subconscious playing games with her. Still, the accuracy of Lynn's letter was something Sarah wondered about when she let her mind wander back to Burbank.

She felt relieved after her conversation on the beach with Chuck although she had a nagging suspicion Ellie's sudden craving for sun was more like her response to a request from her brother to spend time with the blonde nutcase he'd married. She'd have to be 'extra' nice to him and she smiled at the prospects of a passionate night of the Tango and Bolero. She turned quickly and almost ran to the powder room off the kitchen and vomited up the toast and coffee she'd eaten for breakfast.  


* * *

Ellie saw a kindred spirit in Faith Ward, so kindred that she took her along for a walk and talked about her brother and his past.

"You mean Chuck's first wife was an agent assigned to 'handle' him but fell for him?" She couldn't believe the balls of the CIA. To make a person marry another 'for the damned job' was incredible to her.

"Lynn was pregnant when she was killed. I almost lost him that night to the ocean. He went surfing, mad with grief and in such despair, and took one wave too many. Thank God Sarah was there. She pulled him out of the surf when he was screaming at his wife and trying to get back into the surf to find her. She brought him home and 15 stitches later…"

"So that's the beginning of the story. I've heard parts from Carina, including his activities in Mexico. Chuck's a better person than I am, Ellie, because there's no way I could have forgiven her for what she and the Director did to them. No way on earth."

"My brother forgives everyone, Faith, except himself. He's carrying around so much pain and he never lets it out, ever. He just picks himself up and moves on. One of these days, I'm afraid he's going to melt down and God help those around him. He has a temper unlike anything you've ever seen and it's always been his Achilles' heel."

"Then Carina and I will just have to make sure he's kept calm and cool so he won't melt. We're quite capable of watching his back, so please find a way to let Sarah know that we're poor substitutes for her but we will watch out for him."

"I'll do that. I think it will help her but she's so afraid of being isolated from him, afraid for him. She still thinks of herself as his 'handler'. I don't think Chuck would appreciate the description of his wife as his handler, not after some of the things he's done to win her over. This place, the company, the boat, oh my God, Faith, the boat trip was fabulous and he was so at peace until we ran into that piece of filth and Sarah had her breakdown."

"Um, Ellie, please, no personal tales. I respect Sarah and she's my friend. I don't feel comfortable knowing intimate details, so please, respect my wishes and stick to the non-classified topics." She softened her criticism with a slow smile. She liked Ellie Bartowski and could see a lot of her in Chuck.

When they returned to the house, Sarah had the briefing packages ready and Ellie took the hint and changed into her bikini to 'work off the ice tan' she'd gotten in Baltimore.

Sarah's briefing was professional, concise and complete. She went over the players, their histories and their methods of operation. The Russian Mafia could take lessons from these guys. They were ruthless killers with only one goal: money. Their efforts funded the continued efforts of the Chechen rebels and they considered themselves as patriots not terrorists.

She concluded the briefing and then announced she and Chuck would see them all the next morning and that she was going to spend quality time with her husband. No one snickered or rolled their eyes. They all understood the enormity of what they were undertaking and the difficulty Sarah had letting go.

The three women headed off to the Two Georges for 'dinner and drinks' and whatever else might be found. Ellie reminded Carina that she was engaged and she was expected to behave. Carina snickered about cats and mice but Faith just glared at her until she agreed to behave 'unless some Brad Pitt look-alike showed up then all bets were off.'. They all agreed that if Brad Pitt appeared she would be forgiven and envied.  


* * *

**Charah House  
****Lantana, FL**

Lying in her husband's arms, Sarah was at peace. She'd already reconciled herself to being alone at least two of the three weeks the mission was supposed to take and had promised Chuck she'd stay busy working on their bug-out plan and bugging Art about the replacement for the Sarah. She yawned, pleasantly exhausted from the Tango and the activities accompanied to by Revel's Bolero.

"Chuck, while you're gone I don't want you worrying about me not being here when you get back. I'll never leave you, my love, except when I die. If I can't be with you in body I'll be with you in spirit. You can make book on that in Vegas, baby. Nothing will keep us apart, Chuck, nothing. This is my heaven on earth and together we'll keep it safe. Now, go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."

She snuggled up against him, enjoying his arms around her and she slept soundly, not worried for the first time since the mission was laid on to Team Talley.

Chuck and the twins drove to the airport at West Palm Beach and met up with the flight crew that had been tasked in support of their operation. In addition to their own personal 'armory', the aircraft had an additional trove of lethal weapons that Faith and Carina drooled over. The two-hour flight was smooth and uneventful and they arrived in New Orleans to a bone cold Louisiana winter rainstorm.

**New Orleans Int'l Airport  
Executive Air Center  
Kenner, LA**

"Chuck, I quit. This is inhuman of you to expect me, a sun worshipper, to exist in this abysmal climate. My God, how do these people down here live in this cold? We need to stop someplace so I can buy warmer duds. I mean, damn! It's cold." Carina hated the cold. Faith just sat there and smiled, occasionally chuckling at Carina's more descriptive terms for the New Orleans weather.

"Carina, I seem to remember you running around in the Colorado mountains wearing considerably less than you're wearing now and there was snow on the ground. We'll stop and get you a winter coat but I did warn you about packing properly."

"I'm sorry, Chuck, but I did pack warm clothes, just not warm enough. Just find a Wal-Mart and I'll be happy in 10 minutes. Faith, you could use a coat, too."

"I'm fine, Carina. I grew up in Miami but learned early on to wear proper clothing at a training session in Fairbanks, Alaska. It was so cold there that the eyeballs froze if you didn't blink a lot. So this is a spring day by comparison."

Carina muttered under her breath that NSA stood for No Sense At-All and Chuck howled. Faith just looked out the window and wondered again how Carina made it through training. She was such a delicate thing, unable to deal with adversity.  


* * *

**Royal Sonesta Hotel  
New Orleans, LA**

They parked in the underground lot at the Royal Sonesta in the French Quarter and got their rooms. Carina handled the registration while the two 'love birds' went to the bar.

"First time in New Orleans, Faith?" Chuck was curious if he was the only one who'd been here before.

"Yeah, almost made Mardi Gras but got otherwise involved and held out for Spring Break in FT Lauderdale. Not as cold and just as much fun." She sipped her Margarita and made a face. "Not enough salt. Got to have a salty rim on the glass."

"Tonight we'll take a tour of the French Quarter, eat a decent meal and then tomorrow start looking around for properties. Should be some decent office space available since Katrina. Lots of businesses closed down when Katrina hit and their owners left but didn't come back after the storm."

"Mr. Barton, here are the keycards to your suite. I'm down the hall from you. If you don't need me, I'd like to unpack and then find a decent realtor." She was in cover as his assistant.

"No, no work tonight. We're going to dinner and then walk around the Quarter and see the sights. Join us?"

"Too cold, Mr. Barton, but thank you. I'll see you in the morning."

The three went up to their suite and room. Carina would be down in 45 minutes and they'd go over their op plan. Faith unpacked and slipped into jeans and a sweatshirt and sat tailor-fashion on the bed mulling over her part in the op.

Chuck walked out on the balcony for a little privacy and called his wife.

"Talley secure."

"Talley, on the balcony, missing his wife." She smirked at his defiance of proper commo procedures. He always twisted the system's tail when he could.

"I miss you, baby. I wish you were here. Is it cold there? Are you warm enough?"

"No. I need my little hot water heater even though she has cold feet. I'm wearing 2 specials and a sweatshirt. The dampness sends the cold through you to the bone. Carina is already threatening to resign and come back home."

"And how is the roomie? Any non-cover problems? Chuck, I should have told you. She's falling for you, hard. Please be careful with her feelings. She's my best friend after you. Don't hurt her."

"Um, I think I'll be safe unless you want me to switch her with Cari…"

"NO! NO! God, Chuck, no. I trust you and Faith but Carina…no frikkin' way."

They talked for 20 minutes about everything but their shared but unspoken loneliness before Sarah said she had to go before she started crying.

"I love you, husband, and I can't wait for this to be over. Never again, Chuck. I should have done what you wanted and called Art and told him 'no' like you wanted. I'm so sorry I didn't."

"Hey, if we're lucky we'll have this wrapped up in no time. Piece of cake, Sarah. Say 'hi' to Ellie and don't over do it. You're still not 100% from the damned flu."

"Love you too."

He went back into the suite and saw Faith sitting on the bed. Just then there was a knock at the door of the suite and a male voice said 'Concierge, Mr. Barton' and as he started to approach Faith whispered loudly, "Chuck, lose the jacket and the tie and hide your pistol." He glanced over and saw her pulling the sweatshirt over her head and popping open the clasp on her bra.

She hopped up and went to the door, opening it just enough to let whoever knocked know that it was an inopportune time by holding her front-opening bra closed with her fingers.

"Can I help you?" Faith asked. Chuck had taken off his suit coat and tie and was against the wall beside the door, pistol ready.

The man, mid-twenties, blushed and stammered and thrust the wine bottle and cheese basket at her. She let loose of the clasp to take the offerings giving him a non-monetary tip.

"Compliments of the house for Mr. Boobs, I mean, Barton." He turned and practically ran down the hallway.

"Wine and cheese, Mr. Boobs?" She raised an eyebrow but didn't close her bra. Chuck frowned briefly and then chuckled.

"OK, Faith, put the girls away, lovely though they are, and congrats on the quick thinking. I don't think he could describe anything other than…things we will not talk about. Damn. First Jill, then Lynn and then Sarah, and then Carina and now you…all crazy women, I swear…" He muttered to himself walking to the closet to hang up his suit coat. Faith laughed with delight. She'd finally cracked that self-assured exterior of his.

Carina used a duplicate keycard to let herself in, unannounced, and took in the scene and jumped, no, leaped, to a definitely wrong conclusion.

"Faith, what the hell are you doing? He's the boss and he's married to your best friend. Jesus, when Sarah hears about this you'll be lucky to keep them lovelies attached. And you, Chuck, what the hell are you doing fooling around with the help?"

"Faith, you're on your own, baby doll. You explain it to her. I'd just muck it all up. Now, if you professional ladies will excuse me, I'm going to take a shower and shave and then, assuming I still have a roommate and she's not otherwise engaged, I think dinner is in order. Carina, you will join us for dinner, understand?"


	23. Things that go bump in the night

A/N: Getting near the end. The light at the end of the tunnel. The limits to Nicole's patience.

APR

* * *

**Royal Sonesta Hotel  
New Orleans, LA**

The first night in the Barton suite was…awkward. Chuck offered to take the couch but Faith countered that she would take the couch since he was the ranking agent. It went back and forth like that for five minutes before Chuck finally just said "Fine, damn it, we're adults. You take the right side and I'll take the left. I keep a pistol under my pillow so please, don't startle me."

Faith started out in a nightgown and panties, got overheated and tossed off the nightgown sometime during the night not even waking to do it. Chuck slept in his boxers and a t-shirt but woke to a warm body curled up against him, shivering slightly.

Force of habit. It was just force of habit. He rolled toward his shivering partner and enveloped her in his arms and finally warm, she snuggled in to sleep until awakened by her internal clock.

'_Oh, shit. I'm in big trouble. I'm wrapped up in his arms, warm and comfy and when he wakes up I'll be on the next bus to FT Meade for reassignment – if I'm lucky.'_

Steeling herself for the inevitable, she slipped from his embrace, scooted to her own side and hissed at the cold sheets on her naked skin. Finding the nightgown and pulling it on over her head she had a moment's thought that Sarah felt this way every morning and for a second, she was incredibly jealous. She got up and used the bathroom and then dressed for her morning run, slipping out of the suite and breathing a sigh of relief that he was a deep sleeper.

Chuck heard her walk through the bedroom and out into the living room and out of the suite. Morning run. He should get up and do the same thing. She shouldn't be running alone in a strange city but the lure of warm sheets won out and he fell back to sleep.

Carina used her keycard again unannounced and slipped into the suite. If that wench was curled up next to Chuck she'd pull all her damned hair out before sending her back to Charah House to explain her behavior. She was almost disappointed to find Chuck alone, wearing clothes and asleep.

She made coffee in the kitchenette and brought him a cup just as he liked it and sat on the bed and smoothed out the random curls that happened when he slept. She could look at him forever but the job called.

"Chuck, time to get up. I guess Faith is out doing her running thing. Too damned cold."

Chuck smelled the coffee and smiled. Sitting up, he grabbed the cup and thanked her with his eyes and smile. "Carina, you are an angel. Now if you could just quit beating up on Faith, you'd be perfect."

"Hey, if Sarah had walked in on that scene yesterday you'd still be trying to stand upright. I understand what she did and why, but she didn't have to parade around flaunting her c-cups at you."

"It happened in seconds and I'd already asked her to put the girls away when you barged in and jumped into her shit without thinking. And you accused me of not thinking a situation through. Shame on you, L'il Bit. You owe her an apology. Not in front of me, either. It's between the two of you."

He did not want dissension on the team for an op of this importance.  


* * *

Three mornings later they had their first big break. They'd been driving down near the riverbank and almost hit one of their objectives in the crosswalk. He gave them an angry gesture and walked on across the street and down past the warehouses to the riverbank where several tugboats were moored.

Chuck had been in the passenger seat and had flashed hard on the subject: Dimitri Yurgaz, 37, known associate of the team leader, Victor Durshku. The rest of the info he simply filed in his 'read later' file in his head and gestured for Faith to continue on their way.

Carina kept an eye on the subject noting which vessel he'd boarded. They were on the move now.

They dropped Carina off at the hotel to research the owners of the tug and anything else she might turn up. She was a superb researcher and very rarely did she fail to turn up things important to the mission. This was no exception.

Faith and Chuck pulled into a warehouse parking lot across the road from where the tugs were moored and waited, Faith was taking pictures of the vessels, license plates of parked cars near the tug and noting all the surrounding buildings and stores on her 'mini-map'. Chuck watched the tug through binoculars and wished for the hundredth time that Faith were Sarah. At least they could talk here without risk of being overheard. The hours passed slowly, dragging by, each lost in their own thoughts, doing their own part for the mission.

It had gotten cold in the car and he noticed that Faith was shivering, trying to conceal it. It was a sign of weakness in her world.

He started the car and she looked at him, startled. "Why did you do that?"

"You're cold. I'm going to run the heater and get some of this condensation off the windshield. Can't see squat right now."

She looked at the tug and saw men walking down the gangway. "Chuck, a group of men are leaving the target tug. Can you ID any of them?"

He brought up the binoculars but the condensation hadn't cleared yet. He used his hand to clear a spot and saw two men crossing the street, coming towards their car.

"We've been made, Faith. Quick, kiss me." He remembered when Sarah did the same thing back centuries ago in Sausalito. Maybe it would work again.

Soft lips met his and soon parted to allow her tongue to run along his lips. She straddled him, glad he'd put the seat back to allow his long legs some degree of comfort. She ran her fingers along the sides of his head and down behind his head to his neck and then down across his chest. The two stooges from the tug watched for a few minutes and then laughed and walked back to their friends.

Chuck had an eye open and had watched them turn around after a minute or two of watching them make out. Cover safe.

She broke off the kiss and began kissing his neck when she heard him say "They're moving off, back with their friends. Sorry about that but it was the only thing I could think of in the heat of the moment."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips and said, "No problem, but next time, try to sell it a little more." She knew he'd enjoyed it as much as she had judging by the bulge in his jeans. Now she wished she'd done a little more 'selling' herself.

"I think we have all the faces we're going to see today. It's getting dark. We'll need to change cars tomorrow if we're going to continue the stake out. An SUV or a van would be nice."

Nothing was said about their close call and she only asked Chuck about any flashes. He recited what he'd seen and she'd recorded it in her notebook for later review and analysis.

**Royal Sonesta Hotel  
****New Orleans**

Carina could tell from the friction in the air that something had happened on the stake out, something bad. She talked to Faith in the living room while Chuck went to call Graham in the bedroom and asked her bluntly what had happened that made Chuck act like he was acting…guilty.

"What happened on the stake out? Chuck's acting like he kicked your favorite puppy to death. Spill."

"We were made about an hour before dusk. A pair of men from the tug came toward the car. The windows had fogged up and Chuck had turned on the car to engage the defrosters and saw them. He told me to 'quick, kiss me' and I did. We did the 'make out' scene for two or three minutes until the hoods figured out we were probably a married couple cheating on our spouses and walked away. He apologized and that was it."

"Well, that explains the hickey on his neck but not his attitude. He knows it's expected from time-to-time and can't be avoided. Damn, I wish it had been me instead of you. Well, let's just keep on with the mission plan and hope you don't have to screw him or something. For your sake as well as his."

"Carina, it was no big deal. It was good spycraft and saved us from blowing our cover. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that it was Chuck who initiated it and he'll feel like shit and tell Sarah and they'll fight. She'll tell him it was the right thing to do and he'll tell her it won't happen again and then be moody. He's not like us. He has morals, Faith."

Chuck's conversation went almost exactly like Carina had said it would. After making their secure connection, Sarah noted his tone and went on the attack. She was hypersensitive to his moods since she wasn't there watching his back.

"Chuck, what's wrong, baby? Problems with the mission?"

"No, nothing like that. I hate that you're there and not here, that's all. Remember Sausalito and what we had to do in the hallway when those Arabs guys walked by?"

"Oh, yes! Wait, what happened? Are you all right?" She knew where this was going.

"Yes. No. I – I – Faith and I were doing a stake out across the road from where some tugs were moored. We'd found our target earlier than anyone could have expected and we were observing from a parked car across the street. It's cold here, Sarah, really cold and damp, and Faith was cold and the windows were all fogged up so I turned on the car."

"And? Let me guess. Some guys saw the parked car and two people in it and so she jumped you and started making out to fool them. Sweetheart, it's the job. Don't be angry with her."

"I'm not. I jumped her and started making out and… and… It turned me on. I'm so sorry, Sarah, I feel so ashamed."

A few seconds of silence and then he heard her delighted laughter.

"Oh, Chuck, I'm so proud of you! That was exactly the right thing to do. And you're all man, sweetie, so of course you got…aroused. I'll bet she was, too, so don't worry about it. It's what's necessary for the job."

Chuck felt an enormous sense of relief but still felt he owed Faith an apology and Sarah one, too, when he saw her again. He hated her not being with him in New Orleans.

They talked for 15 more minutes and then said their goodbyes. Chuck steeled himself to face Faith but was intercepted by Carina and dragged back into the bedroom.

"Look, whatever you were going to say to her, don't. You did exactly the right thing, Chuck Talley, exactly the right thing. She knows it, I know it and Sarah knows it. It's no big deal. I'm just sorry about one thing, though."

"What?"

"I'm sorry it wasn't me you were making out with. Don't be mad, Chuck, it's just that you know how I feel about you. Mexico. That was the happiest I've ever been since I started in this business. I'll always compare every guy I meet to you, Chuck, and they'll always fall short of the mark. You ruined me for anyone else. So, don't feel bad about what you did. It was smart and exactly the right thing to do."

"Carina…"

"No. Don't say anything. It's the way things are and the way things have to be. I'll always love you, Chuck. It's my penance and I'll take it to the grave with me. Sarah's tickled you did the right thing. That's what she said, right?"

"Well, not exactly, Shorts. She said she was proud of me." He was still processing 'I'll always love you, Chuck' and not really accepting it. It was just more of her spy crap.

"Good. Now, let's look at what we've developed so far. Maybe we can get out of this frozen wasteland earlier than we thought. Ah, Florida. Sun, surf, sand…warmth!"  


* * *

Chuck decided he needed to see more of the tug's 'crew' and hit on the idea of taking pictures of his 'mistress' down along the docks. When he explained his idea, Faith was all over him with compliments for his 'sound thinking' and Carina just stared out the window wishing she were the 'mistress' instead of Faith.

That afternoon they picked up an SUV and drove down to the docks. A couple of the crew were lounging on deck smoking and were watching Chuck's amateur attempts at 'fashion photography'. One of the crew came ashore and approached Carina, asking what they were doing. She acted disgusted with the whole thing.

"My boss over there is looking to relocate to New Orleans from Florida. Marital problems. He and his…slut…I mean, girlfriend are doing the tourist thing. He's rich as can be and now wants to find another…profession? He thinks he's a fashion photographer. He should have stuck to software."

The guy took it all in while trying his best to get Carina to meet him afterwards for a drink. She was about to agree and then just blow him off when the man Chuck had flashed on in the crosswalk came ashore and talked rapidly in a foreign language to the other guy and gestured for him to get back on the tug.

"What you are doing here?" He spoke English with a heavy accent.

"My boss is looking for real estate to rent or lease for his company. We're supposed to go to the Trade Center but he insisted on taking some pictures of his 'girlfriend' along the way."

"The Trade Center? You want offices in Trade Center? You come and talk to my boss. He have many offices to let. Rent is word in English?"

"Yes. Rent or lease. Do you have his card? I'll call for an appointment with him for Mr. Barton."

"Tell you what. He has big party tomorrow night. You come. Tell them I sent you. I am Dimitri Yurgaz and you are who, pretty lady?"

"I'm Carina, Dimitri, Carina Hansen. We'll be there. Formal, I suppose?"

"Yes. Very formal. You save me one dance, pretty Carina?"

"Yes, Dimitri, one dance and maybe more, who knows?" She played him like a toy and he was either too stupid or too flattered to know it.

"Oh, who is your boss, Dimitri? Mr. Barton will want to speak with him about leasing office space. He's business all the time except when he's with his…lady friend." She was a bit jealous even though Chuck hated doing what he was doing. Once again she thought about how much she hated Sarah Walker and envied her his love and affection.

"My boss is Mr. Durshku, Victor Durshku. I think he will want very much to speak with your Mr. Barton. They have much in common, that I can already see. So, I must go back to keeping eyes on my worthless companions. We are waiting for the weather to change before we can go back to work. I shall see you, pretty Carina, tomorrow night." He kissed her hand with thick wet lips and she smiled in spite of the revulsion she felt.

She walked over to Chuck and Faith and leaned over to Chuck. "I've got us an invite to a formal cocktail party tomorrow night, Chuck. Victor Durshku is the host."

"Well done, Carina. So, do you ladies have suitable evening wear?" Chuck knew they didn't. He'd overheard Carina telling Faith not to bother.

"I do, but I told Faith not to bother. Sorry, Faith. We'll have to go get something. I already told Yurgaz that you were Mr. Barton's 'friend'."

"Here, take the AMEX, Faith. Take Carina along as 'backup' since I'm certain she'll need a wrap or something to cover the postage stamps and string she calls a 'cocktail dress'." They all laughed but Carina kissed him on the cheek for thinking about her being cold and told him 'thanks'.

"Just don't break the budget. Keep it under a couple of thousand." Faith's eyes got wide and Carina smirked. "But Chuck, we may as well go to Wal-Mart for less than $2,000." She whined and he nodded. "Fine, $2,500 but that includes whatever wrap you buy. Make sure she has a wrap also. And no MINK!"

Actually he didn't care how much they spent. It was his card. He had the money and virtually no limit.

They dropped him off at the hotel and he immediately buttonholed the concierge and had both of them set up with a spa day and hair appointment. Might as well go all out.

A/N: More of a set-up chapter than anything. More tomorrow if the lovely Nicole can pry herself away from the TV.


	24. Just The Two of Us Once Again

T/N: He sent me a flash drive via FedExpress. No note. No explanation. Stubborn jackass man.

Nik

Royal Sonesta Hotel

New Orleans, LA

Chuck was trying to catch up on the intel dailies in his mailbox on the NSA intranet. He'd caught a few flashes but nothing big. Fulcrum was active in Miami, trying to slip agents into the Federal Intel Center there without any success. Idiots. Whenever Chuck spotted a defector on his monthly reviews of personnel, the word went out and the traitor was set for capture as soon as his face appeared on any surveillance cameras at any of the facilities.

He called Sarah and updated her on the newest developments. As usual she was upbeat but wary of this sudden 'good luck'.

"Chuck, please be careful. This all seems too pat to be true. A series of flukes and you're suddenly invited to a cocktail party with the target? Please, wear the ballistics, baby, remember your promise to me."

"There's no way he could have known we were driving down that street at that time. And I give Carina all the credit for the invitation to the cocktail party tomorrow night. She played that thug like a cheap piano and he did everything but drool on her. Come to think of it, he did when he kissed her hand."

Sarah laughed and again admonished him to keep his promise and to be careful. The usual 'I love you' exchange ended the conversation until Chuck interrupted her.

"Sarah, how's the stomach? Still vomiting? What does Ellie say? Do you think you should see a doctor?"

"I'm fine. Ellie's a doctor and yes, still feeding the porcelain throne occasionally but not nearly as much as before. Ellie says it'll be gone before you know it. So, go do your thing and get your butt back here. It's lonely in the bed, Chuck. And please, be careful."

Charah House

Lantana, FL

Sarah walked into the living room holding her phone and trying not to cry. She missed him so much and lately all she seemed to do was cry.

"You didn't tell him, did you, Sarah?" Ellie looked at her sister-in-law with a slight smile.

"He's got enough to worry about, Ellie. He's in a dangerous situation and I want him focused on what's in front of him, not what's happening here. He'll be home soon enough and then we'll have a nice quiet discussion and then he'll know."

"You know you need to find a decent OB/GYN and start on pre-natal vitamins and stuff. He can also prescribe something for the nausea but really, you shouldn't take anything that's not necessary for the baby's development."

"Yeah, I gave up coffee as soon as you confirmed the test. No wine with dinner. And you just had to tell Amelia! Now it's liver and onions twice a week and I detest liver! And she's always walking around patting me on the tummy and giggling."

"She's happy for you and only wants the best. I'll tell her the liver and onions are causing heartburn. She'll quit and find something smoother. Just be nice to her. You're like her daughter."

"Fine but when are these damned hormones going to settle down? I feel like I'm ready to explode one minute and can't stay awake the next."

"Nine months less the six weeks you've been pregnant."

"Ellie, I miss Chuck. I need an EllieHug."

Royal Sonesta Hotel

New Orleans, LA

The two agents returned loaded with shopping bags and a quiet Carina presented her boss with the receipts.

"$3,700.00! What did you buy? And for what small country?"

"Chuck, we bought her a lovely little black cocktail dress, some suitable undergarments and shoes. Then we had to accessorize and then we got suitable warm wraps and well, it all added up to a mere $3,700.00."

"Well, since you got all that, it's OK. Now, tomorrow you're off, both of you. You have a Spa Day here at the hotel. It's a gift from your boss, Carina, and Faith, from the current love of your life. Also, hair appointments. I'll lay on a limo and it'll be just like old times, right, Carina?"

"Oh, yeah. Talley up?" She giggled and Faith just looked confused. "I'll tell you all about it, Faith. Once, in LA, we went to this museum thing and Chuck and Sarah were feuding and…"

Their voices trailed off as they went out to the living room. Chuck glanced at the bill and laughed. Chicken feed and it made them both so happy it was worth every penny.

Carina and Faith walked up to her room and talked some more about their boss. Faith made the comment that the government must really like Chuck's work if they pony up for all the money he spends – like he did today.

"Faith, it was his personal AMEX not the team's. He did this himself because he wanted to. He doesn't believe in the government's current opium policy."

"Opium? What does opium have to do with anything? Is Chuck using drugs to fund his operation?" She was getting really upset and Carina decided to put her out of her misery.

"OH – PEE – EM, Faith. Other People's Money. He's really quite frugal with our budget probably because Graham has a cow with his medical expenses. Our boss has a tendency to throw himself into things without regard to his own personal safety. Tonight, when you go to bed, check out his abs and sides. Scars. Bad ones. And there's a scar dead center in his chest that Sarah put there during the Museum thing. And then there's a really nasty one on his back but he doesn't talk about it and Sarah just smiles and looks…lucky."

"I'll do that. I never really looked at his body before, well, not really looked, I mean. You know what I mean, Carina. And besides, I've seen you checking him out. It's subtle but it's there so no judgments, damn it."

That night when they were getting ready for bed, Faith made a point of being around him before he put on his t-shirt. She was amazed at both his toned abs and at the scar tissue that marred his stomach and sides. He caught her looking and remarked on it.

"No fair peeking at the scars, Faith. I don't ogle, so don't you. They're ugly and disgusting but I had no choice in the matter. Sarah isn't grossed-out any more and that's why I wear the t-shirt around you…don't want to gross you out."

"They're beautiful…I mean, no they're not beautiful, but they were earned in service so they're nothing to be disgusted by. We don't get medals, Chuck, we get scars, so wear them proudly and don't be ashamed of them. Now, come on, cover lover, let's curl up and you can tell me the tales that go with the scars."

"No, Faith, way above your pay grade. Not even Carina knows about some of these and her clearance is higher than Sarah's because of her dual-agency position."

"Oh, well, can't blame a girl for trying to find out what made the boss look like a cutting board. Forget it, Chuck."

Faith crawled into bed wearing a t-shirt and promptly fell asleep, or pretended to. Chuck 'assumed the position' on his side as he would at home and fell asleep. A few minutes later Faith crawled up against his back, put her arm around him and fell asleep. She wished this mission would never end. She'd miss her undercover cover.

When Chuck awoke he felt extremely warm, like he was covered with thick quilts. His half-awake mind thought he was home in Florida and the A/C had cut out. He wasn't sweating but he was hot. He tried to get up but his arm was under Sarah and he couldn't sit up.

"Hey, babe, please roll over and let me have my arm back. I need to fix the A/C".

Faith woke with a start. She was sick. Very sick. She leaped from the bed and staggered into the bathroom and became violently ill. She was dimly aware that someone was holding her long hair out of her face and away from her being sick. Chuck. She was done vomiting, her stomach contents clearly gracing the toilet bowl but still she wretched and heaved.

If she hadn't been dying of whatever she had, she would have surely died from embarrassment. She was so hot and she was sure she was going to melt. Then she was sure of nothing.

Chuck was squatting beside her, as she was violently sick. He held her hair out of the way, wishing he could do more to ease her sickness. She was burning up with fever and he knew he had to get her temperature down. He wasn't surprised at all when she suddenly folded in on herself and slumped to the floor.

He picked her up and sat her in the bathtub and turned on the water until it was just cool and then ran into the bedroom and called Carina's room using the room phone.

"Wha? Who?" She never woke alert like Sarah. Always took a while.

"Carina, Faith's sick. High temp and she passed out. Get an 'approved' doctor up here. And get here yourself. Use your keycard, I'm kind of busy."

There was urgency but not panic in Chuck's voice. Mumbling her assent, she dressed quickly and called the duty officer at the Federal Intel Center and explained the situation.

Chuck went back to Faith, slipped into the chilled water and held her head out of the water while he dribbled handfuls of cool water over her face and head. He adjusted the temperature until it was cold and then soaked a towel in the water and draped it across her torso.

She started to convulse and Chuck just held her, making sure she didn't slip under the water. He heard Carina in the living room of the suite calling for him but he was far too busy to answer.

Carina saw Chuck and Faith and pulled out her cell and called the duty officer again and told him to 'move his ass, Agent down'.

"She just…convulsed and... I had her in the cold water trying to bring down her fever. She was so hot but dry, not sweating. I have no idea what's wrong. She threw up and then passed out."

There was a knocking at the suite door and Carina went to answer it. She looked through the peephole and spotted a medical team. She opened the door and admitted them but stopped the last guy in the group and demanded the sign, her pistol in his ribs.

"Thunder – thunder, thunder!" These CIA types were nuts.

"Clouds. Thanks. I don't know what's wrong. He woke up and she was hot and dry and then she ran to the bathroom and vomited and passed out."

"We'll handle it, agent. We're taking her back to the med facility at headquarters. You can accompany us or follow us. We'll take care of your partner."

"Chuck, change into dry clothes and let's go. We'll follow them."

"Yeah. Boy, this will make tonight's op interesting".

"Chuck, wait a minute. Let's think this through. We'll have to abort the mission and let another team have a crack at them. We can't pull this off with just the two of us." She had a bad feeling about this and decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

He pulled her into an unplanned hug. "Carina, listen to me. We can do this. All we have to do is go in, flash on the henchmen and the big man, do a little digging and then turn it over to the Center for the takedown. No big deal. It's what we've done in the past. No different than the Museum or the Roberts deal or when we took out the cell in Atlanta."

"Chuck, it's just the two of us and I don't think we should just waltz in there and do our thing. No backup and no support, that's what you said because of 'trust issues'. Well, we've put the Center on notice that we're here and they know we're not on 'vacation'. Chuck, let's get her healthy and go home."

"We'll talk more about this once we see what's up with Faith. You guys were together all day. Anything unusual happen? She eat anything strange?"

"You're thinking food poisoning? Maybe. But I'm pretty sure we ate the same snacks and we both only drank bottled water. And neither of us are breakfast eaters. Let's get down there and check on her and then we'll talk about this. I just have a bad feeling, that's all, Chuck."

Federal Intelligence Center – New Orleans

Medical facility

While Chuck filled out the paperwork Carina went in search of Faith. She saw a doctor and asked about the agent admitted just a few minutes ago. He took her by the elbow and led her into a small exam room.

"Dark hair, unconscious, picked up at the Royal Sonesta?"

"Yeah, Faith Ward, NSA agent."

"Ruptured appendix, she's in surgery now. She should have been complaining of stomach pains, cramps, something, Agent."

"No, and I was with her all day. Nothing at all like you described."

"She's in surgery. I wasn't privy to much more. She must have been living on pain pills."

"Doctor, I was with her all day as was our partner and believe me when I tell you she took no medication and she ate a healthy lunch and dinner."

"Then it must be that she's one of those rare individuals who don't feel pain like you or I do, or it could just be that her appendix had been 'hot' before and then improved and this particular bout was the final straw and the organ simply gave out. In any event, everything has worked out for her. She's very lucky."

Chuck looked up when Carina came out of the office and called his name. "Ruptured appendix. She's in surgery. No problems expected. We did good, Chuck."

"My God, the pain she must have been in. And never one word."

"The doc seemed to think it might have been a recurring thing and this was the final straw. No one will know until we can talk with her. She should have said something before this."

"Well, we have an op to pull off this evening and I want you to head back to the hotel, get some sleep and then enjoy the Spa day and hair appointment. I'll have a limo ready for us when you're ready. Go. I'll catch a cab back. You need your beauty sleep. I can cat nap most of the day since you'll be unavailable."

She felt sudden warmth in her core at his 'you'll be unavailable' comment. She wanted to impress him, to make him want to recapture what they had that one beautiful time in Mexico. It wouldn't be cheating. It could be a mission requirement. If she said it enough, maybe it would be true. She would make herself available.

She drove back to the hotel, checked out of her room and moved her stuff into Chuck's suite. Faith wouldn't be coming back and it was foolish to spend the money on two rooms. She showered using the same shampoo and conditioner as Sarah did, then crawled into the big bed and wrapped herself in his sheets, wishing that she were hugging her 'partner' instead of his pillow. After setting her alarm and requesting a wake-up call, she slept.


	25. Anticipating the Abyss

Here's another thing from the flash drive. Baby, if you read this - pls call me? Please!  
Nik

* * *

**Federal Intelligence Center – New Orleans**  
**Medical facility**

Chuck absolutely hated hospitals, especially the small hospital units in Federal Intel Centers. They usually were excellently equipped and New Orleans was no exception.

He sat at Faith's bedside holding her non-IV'd hand watching the first signs of consciousness return. Chuck wanted and needed to be here when she awoke to assure her all was OK and that she was OK. He also wanted to know how she could have ignored the pain she must have felt but mostly he wanted her to see a friendly face.

He dozed off about 4am, still holding her hand and occasionally rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb just like he did with his wife's hand.

Faith woke up disoriented and in pain. She tried to sit up and groaned and that was all it took to jolt Chuck out of his dozing.

"Hey, don't do that. You'll tear your stitches out. Here, let me get you something to drink. Or maybe ice chips?" He always rambled when he was nervous. Catching him holding her hand probably unnerved him. He was such a doll. She knew it wasn't more than wanting her to know someone was there but she really appreciated it.

"Thanks. What happened? I remember waking up hot and sick and then…nothing."

"Ruptured appendix. They said it burst and you went into convulsions when I had you in the tub trying to bring your fever down. You scared the crap out of me, Faith. How could you endure the pain and not say a single thing?"

"It didn't hurt, honest. I felt a twinge now and again but thought it might be 'female' stuff so I didn't worry about it. Sorry I messed up, Chuck. Really sorry. This is important and now we'll have to scrub the mission. And we were so close…"

"Don't worry about it. Carina and I are going in and taking care of it. You just rest and be well enough to fly home when this thing is done. I won't leave you behind, Faith, ever. You're one of the family."

Unshed tears suddenly flooded her eyes and she closed them and lay back against the pillow. Chuck thought she might be in pain and found her self-medicating pad and put it in her hand.

"Here. For pain. You can't OD. I know, I tried once. Now that I know you're in no danger of dying on me, I have to leave and catch a few hours sleep before the big show. We'll come by afterwards and fill you in on all the boring details."

"Chuck, I'm so sorry for flaking out on you…" She was going to cry and she knew how that would make him feel. She knew from her conversations with Sarah.

"Hey, if you'd died, then you'd be flaking out on me. Just sleep, get strong so we can get out of this wet refrigerator and go home to sunny Florida. You'll be able to lie around the pool in a bikini and recover at home. Sleep, Faith." He kissed her on the forehead and left, almost asleep himself.

He called a cab and returned to the hotel. It was raining again and it was cold. The wind off the Gulf carried little warmth.

**Royal Sonesta  
New Orleans**

He got to his suite, stripped and crawled into bed. He knew Carina would be busy all day but would wake him to find out about Faith. Finally getting warm, he fell asleep.

Carina heard him come in and moved to the farthest edge of the bed figuring he was so tired he wouldn't notice her and she was right. As soon as his breathing evened out she slid over and spooned against his warm back, enjoying a moment of intimacy she'd been without for almost a year. Thoroughly satisfied, she fell asleep.

Sometime during the night Chuck rolled over, sensed Sarah, reached out and pulled her to him, kissing her neck gently, cupping her firm behind and muttering "Night, babe" and fell back into a deep sleep. Carina smiled. The shampoo and conditioner combined to create Sarah Scent and he was drawn to it like a moth to the flames. As he wrapped her in his arms, she allowed her hands to wander down his chest and she gently cupped him and felt his response.

She sighed, released her prize and tried to go back to sleep. She couldn't do it. She'd been infected by his damned Dudley-Do-Right morals.

* * *

Chuck slept until almost 10 when he was awakened by a room-service breakfast ordered by Carina. He'd have to thank her later. He figured she was deep into the steam room getting her pores opened, a wax job and the usual nails. After the hair appointment she'd come up and they'd order room service for dinner and go over the final 'rules of engagement'.

He was looking forward to tonight. He figured go in, mill around, ID the bad guys, listen to various conversations and then leave and call in the Feds and locals. There were enough outstanding warrants to go around. It would be a bonus if they could locate the explosives cache but figured the Feds would sweat it out of them.

He dozed and then called Sarah. Ellie would be leaving soon and he had hoped to wrap this up while she was still there.

"Hey, baby, all ready for the big show? Faith knows to watch your back, Chuck, and Carina will take out any threats Faith misses. I wish I was there but it can't be helped."

"Um, Sarah, Faith's out of action. Ruptured appendix. It's just Carina and me but it's a piece of cake. I'll be home just as soon as the docs say Faith can fly. I'm not leaving her behind among strangers, Sarah. I just can't."

"Where's Carina, Chuck. Let me talk to her for a minute, please? I just want to impress upon her one more time that I'll kill her if anything happens to you. I think you should abort the mission, Chuck. Too risky. No one will blame you and you've found the cell, now just get the Feds to pick them up. No one needs to risk their ass, Chuck. Please, for me, Chuck. Please abort and come home, baby."

"Carina's having a Spa day and getting her hair done. If it's that important to you, I'll have her call you. But really, Sarah, it's no different that Sausalito or Atlanta. Just in, ID, and then scoot."

"Damn it, Chuck. It is different. I'm not there. You've been very lucky, Chuck, very lucky. Don't push your luck. Please abort and come home. Hole up in the hotel until Faith's OK to fly and come home, please!" She was starting to cry and that unnerved him enough to almost, almost, agree to abort.

"Sweetheart, if the situation were reversed and I was in Florida and you were here you wouldn't abort. You'd accomplish the mission. It's the right thing to do. Now, can you put Ellie on the phone for a second?"

"Ellie flew back yesterday, Chuck. She doesn't have a lot of vacation and the trip to Key West used up most of it. I should have told you earlier but I didn't want you to worry. Amelia's staying with me nights so it's OK, baby, really. Have Carina call me, please. Now, go nap and have a good mission. I'm sorry for all the drama."

She hung up on him. She was about to start crying again and he didn't need it. Damned hormones.

He looked at his watch and made a decision.

"Graham, secure."

"Talley, secure. Hey, Director. Update. Agent Ward is in the hospital at the Intel Center. Ruptured appendix. Agent Hansen and I will be going solo and will wrap up the ID process and call in the Feds and locals tonight. Should be enough warrants to keep them all happy. We should be back in Florida as soon as Agent Ward can travel. Any updates on your end?"

"Fulcrum still trying to infiltrate the centers. Nothing else. Aren't you going to bug me about that damned boat, Talley?"

"Nope. That's Sarah's bag. If there's nothing else, take care of yourself, old man. Maybe you should think about retiring. Come down to Florida for a few months. We'd appreciate the company. Do some fishing, work on your … oops, forgot. You don't need a tan. Seriously, Art, you're the closest Sarah's got to family and Shortstuff would probably appreciate the chance to make amends for the whole Miami thing. Well, it's your decision. Open invitation. See ya."

Carina came in at 4pm and Chuck made appreciative sounds about her hair. She blushed then grinned and began interrogating him about Faith and what he'd been doing all day while she worked her ass off getting beautiful.

"Didn't have to work very hard, Carina. You were beautiful before you had your time at the spa. Sarah wants you to call her when you get a chance. The Pimp said no change in mission profile. I see you moved in…saving money? Art will appreciate it."

She blushed at his comments and then told him to move his butt and shower. He was safe from her since she wouldn't want to risk ruining her hair. He laughed, grabbed clean underwear and went to shower. She called Sarah as he'd asked.

* * *

"Talley secure."

"Hansen, beautiful. Chuck said you needed to speak to me? Let me guess. Watch his ass but don't touch it and if I do or if he gets hurt, you'll kill me, right?"

"Exactly. And be careful yourself, Carina. I have such a bad feeling about this. I asked him to abort but he refused."

"I did the same thing. Got the same answer. He's dead set on accomplishing this. Probably wants to show off. I don't know. I feel the same way you do. And worse now that Faith's out of the picture but Graham told him no change in mission profile so we're on for tonight. Sarah, I didn't mean that crack about him showing off. He's better than that. So, still puking?"

"I'm pregnant, little sis, and the hormones are driving me crazy. Don't tell him, please. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm just so scared all of a sudden."

"Oh, Sarah, Chuck will be so happy. You're happy, aren't you? You do want this baby, don't you? You are going to tell him, aren't you? It's his kid, too, and any termination decision should include him."

"I want this baby. I won't even consider termination, Aunt Carina."

"Aunt…Aunt Carina? Oh, wow."

"So, you better watch his ass for me, Carina. We have so much going for us now and I don't want to have anything ruin our lives."

"I'll watch him, Sar, I will. You can count on me. Wow, Chuck a daddy. He's going to be so excited when you tell him. Let me get off the phone and get ready. The sooner this is over, the sooner we're home, mommy-to-be."

Chuck called Carina that room service was there and she got off the phone, still chuckling over her 'secret'. She was so glad she hadn't tried anything during their 'sleep over'. She'd have been so ashamed of herself.

Chuck just pushed his food around on his plate, obviously lost in thought. "Hey, Chuck, what's with you and your food? You need to eat, Chuck. And I need to start getting ready. You guys are so lucky."

"Yeah. Good idea. I'll check on the limo while you slip into your dress. Poor Faith. Missing out on the big event. And she's probably eating hospital jello."

They both snickered. No one liked hospital jello.


	26. Prelude to The Abyss

T/N: Here's another chapter. Call me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You _can't_ be busy in Lumberton, OR.

Nik

* * *

The limo was ready when they walked out of the elevator into the lobby. Carina's dress was short, black and it was a good thing she'd bought a heavy cloak or she'd have, as Chuck mentioned, 'frozen her assets off'.

The drive to the Trade Center was short and Chuck instructed the limo driver to return and wait for them in two hours. He took Carina's hand in his and they walked into the lobby and followed the signs to the party on the top floor.

Chuck took her cloak and did a double take on the dress, what there was of it. "Carina, you are going to give people a heart attack with that dress. My God, you're …beautiful. It…I'll shut up now and find the cloakroom. No cloak and dagger until I get back, OK?" She giggled at his play on words and walked a few feet away until she could survey the guests.

Chuck walked up and joined her and together they entered the room already packed with couples. He leaned over and whispered to Carina to turn on the recorder in her purse and then snagged her a champagne cocktail and asked the waiter for a domestic beer in a glass and continued on into the party.

He flashed on Dimitri Yurgaz who was already heading for Carina. "Remember, you're my date for this evening. Faith has food poisoning and is unable to attend, so attend me, and don't run off with the marks, please."

She looked up at him and giggled and then walked to meet Dimitri Yurgaz and introduce him to Chuck.

After the introductions were made and Faith's absence and Carina's presence explained a visibly disappointed Yurgaz led them back to a table where his boss, Victor Durshku was holding court, surrounded by flunkies and floozies that seemed common to all Eastern European criminal gatherings.

"Ah, Mr. Barton, Dimitri has told me you have an interest in leasing office space here in the Center for a software company? That is good. How many square feet are you looking for?" He was more interested in Carina's display of wares than in leasing office space but then that was the whole idea, keep him off the subject.

"About 10,000 square feet to begin with and possibly more as we increase sales and begin to add technical assistance reps. A 2-year lease and option for another 2-years would be ideal." Durshku was not listening but Yurgaz was writing notes in a daytimer. Chuck wondered if his original impression of Yurgaz was incorrect.

"Mr. Barton, what software are you developing?" Yurgaz again.

"I've licensed the Bartowski Process for limited sales in Central and South America with options for the old Soviet Bloc countries. I'm especially interested in Eastern Europe as that's where the new growth will come from. Old Europe is just that, old. And Russia? Corrupt. A bully refusing to allow their former provinces autonomy and independence. Look what they've done in Chechnya and Georgia. Disgraceful. But, I'm sorry. Politics is not for a cocktail party. My apologies."

His comments piqued Durshku's interest. "You agree with the independence movements in Chechnya and Georgia? Why? Why shouldn't they be brought back into the circle of the Russians?"

"Because they're not Russians. They're a different people subjugated since Lenin's time and they have a right to a free determination of their futures. They fight for freedom from Russian domination. And no one helps them, just like Hungary in 1956."

Durshku smiled and stood and offered Chuck his hand. "We will talk business, Mr. Barton. You have captured the essence of our struggle. Very rare for an American. I think I have contacts who might help you in the development of your distribution network." He was positively salivating at the prospects of bringing a legitimate company into his homeland. This Barton could be very valuable in the future.

Carina had wandered off with Dimitri when Durshku had offered his hand to Chuck. He was no longer needed. They were dancing and he was trying very hard to convince her to come with him 'for a night on the town'.

"And what do you do, Mr. Durshku, other than lease real estate?"

"Mr. Barton, I own warehouses for shipping, you can see them from here, and a few tugs but am looking to acquire partners for a venture in spot oil speculation. A few 'friends' of my country are interested in manipulating oil prices through spot investments. The minimum investment is $5,000,000US. I am looking for additional investors who are friendly to our cause. Perhaps…?"

Chuck had a pretty good idea of why the attack would take place and who would benefit. He needed to put together a roster of the parties and countries that made up the 'friends'.

Chuck was following Durshku to the windows overlooking the river. He pointed out several warehouses that were near where Yurgaz had first met Carina. A little sneak and peak suddenly appeared on the schedule of events.

"Mr. Durshku, I'm intrigued by your spot investment idea and would like to perhaps participate but my country would lock me up if I were to invest cash with a government they have listed as terrorists instead of freedom fighters. Perhaps an intermediary could be arranged to handle cash transactions?"

"Ah, Mr. Barton, you have the right idea and have found the right man. How much would these transactions amount to?"

"Initially $10,000,000US but that would be an initial amount. Depending on results, twice as much more quarterly. Assuming a reliable and secure intermediary was in place."

"Let us meet tomorrow and discuss this. What hotel are you staying at?"

They arranged a luncheon meeting for 11am. Chuck didn't expect to make the meeting. He expected Durshku to be in custody within hours.

Chuck excused himself to find Carina and dance and Durshku went back to his table and his flunkies, glad to have met an insightful American of means.

They danced for a half hour while Chuck flashed and recited information for the benefit of Carina's recorder. Occasionally he leaned over and whispered something in her ear or nibbled at it to give the impression that more was going on than a mere business association. After two hours they had all the intel they could get, Chuck was getting a headache from the constant flashing and Carina suggested, actually demanded, that they leave.

* * *

**Royal Sonesta Hotel  
New Orleans, LA**

When they got back to the hotel Chuck made a beeline for his shaving kit and took two pills the CIA doctors had prescribed for his headaches. Thirty minutes later they had done their magic. Noting the time but not caring, he called Graham and related the evening's activities and his suspicions.

"Talley, you need to see what's in those warehouses. If what you think is true about the reasoning behind the planned attacks, we need to crush every aspect of their operation. I'm sending you two teams of agents for backup. They should report in to you by 2pm tomorrow. Good work. Now, buy a damned watch. It's after midnight here. Email me the report."

By 1am he'd finished his report, listened again to their intel recording and then erased it. Carina was soaking in the tub, probably asleep, and he wanted nothing more than to crash but wanted a shower to wash off the scum he'd picked up associating with the marks.

"Hey, Shortstuff, you fall asleep in there?" He knock on the door but heard no answer so he opened it and called her name again. No response.

'She always does this. Temptation should be her name, not Carina.'

He walked in and sure enough, she was asleep. The water would be getting cold and a cranky Carina was not something he wanted to put up with so he took down one of the huge thick towels from the heated towel bar and softly called her name, hoping to wake her. Nope. She slept like a log. Strange for a spy but she did.

"Carina, please. The water's getting cold and you'll be freezing your fanny off. Come on, Carina. This is getting old. Quit with the 'let's tempt Chuck' stuff and get up. Here, I won't look."

She woke up and immediately complained about the water temperature and how cold she was. He wrapped her in the warmed towel and lifted her out of the bathtub like a child and set her on the bed.

"Get dried off and then I need you awake to listen to what the Pimp's plans for us are."

"Fine. Help me?" She had to stay in character. He was so cute when he was flustered.

"No, Carina. You're a big girl and I'm a big married guy. I'm going to take a shower so please be reasonably awake and clothed when I'm done. Please? I'm dead tired and the headache is back. I wonder why?" He gave her a pointed look.

"OK, Jesus, I get it. Go, shower. You stink."

She called Sarah to let her know the op was over and successful and he was OK.

"Talley, secure."

"Hansen, secure. It's done. He's fine. Just a headache. He did really well, Sar. Really good. We found out a lot of good intel, identified a bunch of bad guys and also a bunch of foreigners who are bankrolling this operation. He's in the shower. We should be home as soon as Faith's up and about. I'll call you again tomorrow. How are you feeling, sis. Seriously?"

"Fine. I'm so happy this is over, Carina. I guess my 'bad vibes' were just hormones. I'll talk with you tomorrow. Thanks for watching his back."

"Well, I'd rather be washing his back, but he's so damned married…"

Sarah laughed and hung up. She felt – light-hearted and worry-free for the first time since they'd received the warning order. She'd planned on an early night but stayed up waiting for their calls. Tomorrow, well later today, she'd call for an OB/GYN referral from the 'selected listing' maintained by the Agency.

* * *

**Royal Sonesta  
New Orleans  
2pm**

"Chuck, there's some guy on the house phone, says he has to speak to Art's nephew. I think it's the 'reinforcements' you mentioned. Should I tell him to come up or should we meet them downstairs in the lobby?"

"Lobby. I'll need to see them before they see us just 'in case'. I know Art sent them but…I don't trust your foster pops one bit."

"I agree, I'll go down to the lobby. But I think you're being too hard on Art. He's taken good care of us, got us a fine replacement for Larkin and he's supported us all the way."

"Fine, Shorts, you trust him for both of us. Just…be careful. He'd sell his mother for a successful op."

Carina just sighed in resignation. There was no way she could ever win this argument, not after Sand Springs and Mexico and Miami, especially not after Miami.

"I'll go down to the lobby and you follow a few minutes later and hang back and flash if necessary. I'll ask for whoever called our suite and you can ID them."

**Lobby**

Eric Pope was nervous. This was only his third assignment and he'd almost crapped his drawers when he'd been summoned to the Director's office. "Agent Pope, you and your team of agents are going to New Orleans as backup and augments to an action team already in place. You will take orders from any, repeat, any, of the three team members although Agent Talley is senior and runs the show."

"Yes, Director, and our assignment is…?"

"You'll be briefed when you get there. One of the agents is already in the hospital but should be back in place within a week. Report to Agent Talley or Agent Hansen at the Royal Sonesta. You have reservations there and your team will be split as usual. You've done well on your previous two assignments. This one is the most crucial you'll face in your career. That is all."

"Yes, Director." As he started to leave, he was already formulating his warning order for his 'team' when the Director called him back.

"There is one more thing. Your team is expendable and Agent Talley is not. Do you understand what I'm telling you, son? If things go to crap, Agent Talley must survive. He has a tendency to throw himself in Harm's Way for his team members. That must not be allowed. If there is only a single survivor, it must be Talley. Understood?"

"Yes, Director." He must have given some sign or indication of hesitation because the Director's next sentence almost made him vomit.

"If Talley is…if capture appears imminent, kill him. If he is taken, pursue and extract. If extraction is not possible, kill him. Understood?"

"Um, Director, kill him?"

"Yes. Make sure the other members of your teams understand the orders before leaving Langley. Do not discuss them with Talley's team. None of you would leave the room alive."

Now, as he waited in the Lobby for a call from the senior agents' suite, his thoughts turned to his team and mostly to his partner. Their reactions had been almost predictable when he briefed them in during their flight on the small CIA courier aircraft.

"Guys, I'll tell you all I know. We're going to New Orleans to join up with a senior team already in place and mid-mission. They're a trio of experienced operators but one is in the hospital. We four are subordinate to the senior team and its senior agent, Charles Talley."

He'd watched their faces as they assimilated their briefing. His partner, Amanda Blaine, was stone-faced as usual, only her blue eyes betraying the turmoil she felt. She'd run up against Charles Talley in Atlanta and it hadn't been pretty. He'd blown her cover in the course of his mission and she'd had no choice but to extract back to Langley. She'd been deep cover for a year and Talley had taken her Fulcrum mark out as a sidebar to the main event.

She'd complained to the Director personally and been told, nicely at first but then bluntly when she didn't 'take the hint', to grow up and quit her bitching or quit. Talley's mission had been the more critical and her mark had been collateral damage. Talley's objective was to eliminate any Fulcrum operatives and she'd been 'lucky' he'd hesitated or she'd have been dead, too.

Anne Childs and Ron Downs both nodded. They'd been at the Academy when Talley's exploits and missions had been 'teaching aids' for some of their training scenarios. Their faces showed excitement and nervousness. Everyone knew that Team Talley was the point of the spear and only drew the most difficult domestic missions, usually those involving terrorists or Fulcrum, sometimes a mixture, like Atlanta.

The only sound in the plane was Eric's voice as he outlined their mission requirements, specifically that they, Team Pope, were expendable. Their faces were unmoved but there were gasps from Anne and Ron when he gave them the 'secret' part of the briefing, that Talley was to be terminated in the event of capture. Only Amanda Blaine smiled.

Now Eric stood like a kid outside the principle's office waiting to be called in. His eyes followed each person getting off the elevator. A female agent named Hansen had told him, curtly, to 'wait in the lobby and he'd be met'.

And so he waited.


	27. TANSTAAFL

Greeneyedgirl22

T/N: Another entry from his flash drive. Stubborn Irish Bastard!

* * *

Carina got off the elevator and walked to the front desk. She asked the desk clerk to point out the gentleman who'd called the Barton suite and she indicated a tall man of about 28 who was standing near the house phones. Carina took him in at a glance and decided he was a 'possible' and walked over towards him adopting the mien of a hunting tigress.

"You called for your cousin, Charles Barton? I didn't know Charles had an 'Uncle Arthur', let alone a cousin."

"Well, we're from the other side of the family, the Pope's side, actually. I'm here with three friends and I was hoping to touch base with Cousin Charles, maybe ask him, well, the both of you, out for a drink?"

"Where are your friends, Mr. Pope? I don't see them? Already out cavorting on Bourbon Street? It's a little chilly for a drink." He'd given the challenge and she'd answered with the counter.

"Perhaps we could meet in the bar. I'm Eric Pope, by the way. I didn't catch your name, Miss…"

"Yes, in the bar. Fifteen minutes. And I didn't throw it, Mr. Pope."

She walked away towards the elevators, her hips sending Pope an unmistakable message about 'possibilities'.

She took the elevator to the 2nd floor, got off and walked to the suite. Chuck was out on the balcony talking with someone and she had the sinking feeling it was 'Uncle Art'. She walked over to the French doors and eavesdropped, looking Chuck directly in the face knowing he wanted to hear what she had to say more than what the caller had to say.

"Look, Carina's back and I have to scope out the newbies for any bad eggs. I'll talk with you later. Yes, later. Yes, I'll remember to note the time difference. Yes, I'll watch the damned budget." He flipped the phone closed, terminating his part of the conversation.

"Ten minutes in the bar, Chuck. He was alone so I told him to gather his flock and meet us there."

"Art wants us to move on the warehouses as quickly as possible, like tonight but I told him we'd follow my schedule or he could fly down here and do it himself. Let's go see what he sent us. I wonder if they brought their own toys with them or if we need to check out the plane's 'package' for them?"

**Hotel Sonesta Bar**

Chuck and Carina entered the bar arm in arm and she 'led' him to Eric Pope who was seated at a café table in the rear with his team. Chuck took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and whispered to Carina to follow behind him and keep a hand on her weapon. She giggled and Chuck looked at her in shock.

"Chuck, I need two hands to keep 'a hand' on _my_ weapons…" She giggled again and Chuck had to laugh. She was great at reducing the tensions with her bawdy humor at the most unexpected times.

"And you criticized Faith for her 'girls'? Hypocrite."

Carina moved to sit at the table behind the group but Chuck pointed to the only available chair at the table and stood slightly behind her which allowed him to have a clear shot at his shoulder rig if things got exciting.

"I'm Chuck Talley and this is my 2IC, Carina Hansen." He nodded to the group as a whole but stopped and made and held eye contact with Amanda Blaine, momentarily startled by her resemblance to his wife, Sarah. He remembered her as a brunette from their brief encounter in Atlanta.

"Agent Blaine, I almost didn't recognize you. How are you?" _'Might as well settle this now, before things get interesting'_, he thought.

"Agent Talley, I'm surprised you remember me at all. If memory serves me, you were too busy killing Fulcrum agents and their associates to pay much attention to specific people." There was more than a trace of rancor and bitterness in her voice.

"I recognized you and was startled to find you there. I'd reviewed your file, of course, and knew you were in deep cover but not in Atlanta. Your mark was from New York and you weren't supposed to be in Atlanta. I'm sorry your cover got blown but I'm glad you weren't injured or worse." He hadn't taken his eyes from hers and she'd hardly blinked during the exchange.

"You – you reviewed my file? Why on earth would you do that? And how did you know I was CIA from my file?" She and Bobby weren't supposed to be in Atlanta but Fulcrum wanted additional 'soldiers' on hand for their meeting with the terrorist cells they were supporting. His knowledge of her mission and status unsettled her.

"We'll discuss that later. For now, let me welcome you to New Orleans. We'll have a meeting in 2 hours in our suite. One of my team is in the NSA medical facility and I want to check in on her. Carina has a list of 'needs' she'll go over with your team leader. We have access to additional equipment and weapons stored on our plane." He asked Carina to pack a 'travel bag' for Faith in case they were going to let her out early.

"I'll get another room and move my stuff, Chuck. Faith will be back in cover and it would look weird if you were shacking up with your Administrative Assistant instead of your mistress. Unless you want to try something really kinky?" She loved to embarrass him, and maybe tempt him just a little.

"Good thinking. I won't have to sleep wearing a steel jockstrap with Faith back." Two could play the embarrassment game.

Carina smirked and smiled at Eric Pope and then swayed her way through the bar to pack Faith's bag.

"If there are no other questions, we'll meet again in my suite at 4 and then break up for dinner. Let Carina know what additional armament you need and if we can't fill your order from the plane, we'll go downtown."

**NSA – New Orleans  
Medical Facility**

Faith Ward was bored and chomping at the bit to get out of the hospital and back with her teammates. She knew that both Chuck and Carina were competent apart and she'd seen the deadly ballet they'd danced in Atlanta when she and Sarah had been pinned down by a gaggle of Fulcrum renegades and their terrorist allies and the two had 'danced' to the rescue. They made a most formidable team. Only Chuck and Sarah together were better.

_Chuck sighed and Carina just giggled thinking ' This is just like old times'. "Carina, you take the left side and I'll take the right and we'll take the pressure off Sarah and Faith and they can wrap up the middle."_

_They'd both 'danced' their way down the alleyway formed by the neat rows of shipping crates that filled the warehouse floor, their silenced weapons taking a deadly toll on the Fulcrum and terrorist shooters without alerting the main group that the agents had been' reinforced'. _

_Faith realized that it was one of the most choreographed movement series she'd ever seen and represented hours of working together. She looked over at Sarah who was smiling but worried. Her 'Chuck' was once again throwing himself into the fray to help his team and he'd promised to stay in the background._

_Carina had gotten a little ahead of Chuck and as he hurried to stay in visual contact he almost missed the assault rifle barrel as it appeared between two crates. He did a shoulder roll and got out of the line of fire, turned to his left and rolled again, taking the shooter in the throat. He was about to take out the second shooter who was suddenly screaming 'Bobby!' when he flashed…'Umbrella, monopoly board, strawberries, umbrella', Amanda Blaine, deep cover, CIA, 25, graduated Summa Cum Laude Penn State International relations._

_The agent was cradling the body of the Fulcrum shooter he'd killed, crying and rocking him back and forth, her weapon on the floor, forgotten. 'Compromised'. He put zip ties on her hands and feet, kicked her weapon away and continued on, running into Sarah and Faith making their way up the now-empty passageway._

_The cleaner team policed up the bodies and presumably Agent Blaine. He never gave her another thought._

"Hey, partner, ready to leave this palace of pain?" Chuck had checked with her doctor and been told she could leave as long as she kept 'strenuous activities' to a minimum.

"Oh, yeah. I hope you brought clothes, Chuck. I was brought here fresh from a tub of cool water so all I have is this gown and it's drafty as hell."

He handed her a utility bag. "Carina packed a warm change for you. We've been reinforced and I want you in on the planning if you feel up to it. The Doc says you can leave but no strenuous activities, so no tangoing for you, Faith. I'll wait in the hall while you dress."

She laughed but then remembered Carina's caution about the tango. Surely he wasn't coming on to her, was he? She smiled at the thought but dismissed it as 'Chuck humor'.

"That's OK. I'll dress in the bathroom. Tell me about the newbies. Any problems?"

They talked through the door for the 10 minutes it took her to dress and then they went down to catch a ride from the duty officer.

"Remember Atlanta and the CIA deep-cover who was crying over the Fulcrum shooter? Well, she's here with the augmentation group. Amanda Blaine. There's still some anger there but I think it'll be all right for what we have to do. I want you and Carina to do a quick recon plan and then we'll send the group out on the op. We'll observe and make sure they can work well together before we go for the gold."

"Chuck, I can handle an op. It's only 3 stitches and they're healing just fine. Don't bench me, coach." Sports metaphors were her specialty.

He gathered her into a hug and whispered, "I don't throw people away, Faith, especially not family. We'll see how things work out but I've got a funny feeling about this op and I want someone I can trust implicitly overseeing things, OK?"

She squeezed him tightly and whispered, "I've got your back, always, Chuck. Let's go check out the kiddies." So, she and Carina weren't the only ones with concerns and this just magnified her own set of 'willies'.

**Royal Sonesta Hotel  
New Orleans, LA**

"Liberty 6-5000."

"This is Daisy. I am in place. Any updates?"

"No changes. Kill him. If you can make it look like blue-on-blue, so much the better. We spent a lot of time and money getting you where you are. Stay in place after the hit. Report back when you've completed your assignment. We may have other marks for you before the mission wraps up."

"Acknowledged."

**_A/N: Blue on blue is killing by friendly fire. As if any fire is friendly in and of itself?  
APR_**


	28. The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Agents

GreenEyedGirl23

A/N: Getting married so I'll be busy. Enjoy this. See ya maybe in mid- or late-June.

Setup for the concluding chapter. And maybe an epilogue. Possibly. Probably.

APR

* * *

Carina delivered the op order to the group in Chuck's suite. It was straightforward with no major contingencies. Eric Pope went through each of his teammates responsibilities and answered 'in-team' questions. Amanda Blaine was quiet and respectful but seemed to find her gaze wandering more and more to Agent Talley who was quietly watching the entire briefing with Agent Ward.

For the 30th or 40th time since Atlanta she reviewed the night her deep cover boyfriend had been killed. She'd moved on from 'murdered' to 'killed'. Tally had been doing his job just as she had. The difference was that Talley hadn't planned on going off the grid with Bobby as soon as they could get out of Atlanta. They loved each other and had decided to dump the spy life and try to make it in the normal world.

He was self assured, seemed to move with a cat-like grace and had both his 'associates' wrapped around his fingers. She wondered who he was banging – probably both of them considering how they hung on his every word, watched his movements and moved around him in a Brownian configuration, never letting him more than a yard from either of them while watching her partner and other team mates for any suspicious moves. Definitely pros with long exposure to one another.

Anne Childs introduced herself to Faith and asked her if she minded a question or two since she was new and Faith was obviously an experienced operator. Faith smiled and nodded her assent.

"Agent Talley doesn't seem…all that special or talented and yet you two seem to have this gestalt where he's concerned. Is it experience, team longevity or just chemistry? I'll be the first to admit I'd not object to a personal sack session with him but…"

"You would not survive the encounter, Agent Childs, even if it were to occur, which it would most definitely would _**not**_. Chuck Talley is married, very married, to another agent. Perhaps you've heard of Sarah Walker? Um, the L.A. Museum? Senator Roberts? The Atlanta Hive?"

Her eyes got big and she blinked. "_He's_ married to _her_? Oh, my God. I saw the shooting on GMA. His wife shot him to keep him from being taken? His own wife?"

"Like I said, Anne, very married. The kind of love that they write books and make movies about. If she were here, your team wouldn't be. And Agent Hansen is almost married to him. Sometimes Carina seems more protective of him than Sarah. Me, I'm the newest novitiate and even I know he's special."

"OK, but what's so special about him?" Faith noted that it was honest curiosity not interrogation at work and decided to be open and blunt.

"We, all three of us, are a little bit in love with Chuck Talley. Of course, Sarah has his heart. But we'd all die for him just as he'd jump in front of a bullet for any of us…and now, any of you. He cares. It's stupid, unprofessional, aggravating, dangerous and did I say stupid? Well, it is. But mostly it's his damned sense of loyalty. We all know we'll never be left behind, never be 'sacrificed' and we'll walk away and come back another day if we aren't assured absolute victory without casualties to the team."

"Us? He'd do that for us?" She was confused. This went contrary to all her training. 'No one left behind' was for the movies and the military. Being left behind was a consequence and risk any agent took. The greater good took priority.

"Ask Amanda about it. I'm sure you'll get a slightly different viewpoint. Ask her about Atlanta. Ask her about loyalty." She smiled to take any offense from her comments and then went over to where Chuck and Carina were arguing loudly about some minor point.

* * *

"Carina, this floor plan is incomplete. You can't have agents waltzing in without knowing the layout of the building. If things go wrong they need to know exactly where the egress points are. Look at Faith's photos and compare the exterior dimensions of the building with the floor plan. See?"

"OK. I'll see what I can come up with. Jesus, Chuck, you have to allow them some challenge. How else are we going to know if we can depend on them?"

"It's our job as senior agents to ensure that the 'challenges' are minimal and minimized. Remember Atlanta? The Museum? I don't want anyone lost because we didn't do our jobs. Please, Shorts, go back over it again. We can depend on them once they know they can depend on _us_. Loyalty and confidence are top-down factors. We have to _earn_ their loyalty and respect."

Amanda Blaine had walked over to the coffee service and poured herself a cup and eavesdropped on the senior team. She heard the sincerity in Talley's voice in juxtaposition to Agent Hansen's exasperation and impatience. It was like listening to two instructors at the Farm, but these were field agents, not old talent turned instructors.

She walked out onto the balcony to drink her coffee and process everything she'd seen and heard tonight. The senior team functioned extraordinarily well because of meticulous planning and attention to the smallest detail. They didn't say 'go here, do this, good luck'. They said, 'go here, be careful of this, then go there but watch out for that, if it isn't safe, abort, we'll go there after replanning.' Not at all what she was used to.

* * *

At 1am the infiltration team loaded up and drove to the warehouses targeted for penetration. Each agent was outfitted with a helmet cam, communications and a GPS transponder as well as the usual loadout of weapons and body armor.

Faith drove to a location scouted earlier by Carina and set up the commo and then sat back to observe and reinforce if necessary. The objective was simple. Infiltrate, identify cargoes in storage, copy the drives of any computers found, photograph all paperwork and leave, undetected.

Carina's research had tipped them to an alarm system but not to the system installed by the Chechens as a supplement and backup. The team had just penetrated the office area after identifying the contents of the shipping containers and were preparing to insert the worms and dump the hard drives when the Carina saw several SUVs approaching the warehouse at high speed from their cameras placed earlier.

"This is Talley, abort. Say again, abort. Company is coming. There must have been layers of security. Move it, people. South end. We'll meet you there."

"Faith, stay there and monitor our comms. If we need backup, you're it otherwise, once we make pickup, head back to the airport where we'll stash our gear and debrief. Carina, show me your stuff, Shorts. Drive to their vehicle and we'll secure it until they show then we'll caravan to the airport."

"Talley, Pope. Anne and Ron are almost done inserting the virus and copying the files. Two minutes, tops."

"Pope, Talley. You don't have 30 seconds. Abort. Head for the south end. We're almost there and will secure the vehicle and back you up. Abort."

They could all hear Anne's voice counting down the seconds, urging her partner to hurry.

"Eric, Amanda, abort now! Anne and Ron, pull your toys and leave. That's an order. If they don't find us, they'll think it's a false alarm. If they do, we've tipped our hand. Leave the building, right now."

From the GPS display Carina had superimposed over the building floor plan, Anne and Ron had finally started to withdraw while Amanda and Pope were nearing the south exit.

"Anne, Ron, change of plan. Meet us at the center exit on the western wall of the warehouse. Faith, back up Amanda and Pope. Run, people. And be quiet about it."

Carina coasted the last 20 yards to the double doors of the warehouse and then stopped as Anne and Ron ran to the Suburban and got in. With the lights out, she drove further north, splitting any pursuit of Faith and the other two agents in half. Forty-five minutes later all the teams' vehicles eased onto the private hanger tarmac to stow their gear in the Talley plane.

* * *

Chuck was pissed. Carina walked around behind him, picking up the things he threw around. Faith just stood near the hangar door and made sure none of the other team made an escape. They had a lecture coming.

"Childs and Downs. Didn't you hear the order to abort? Your fellow agents did and followed instructions." He looked at Pope who was adopting a smug and self-satisfied look and at Blaine who looked…interested for a change.

"Eric, you're not blameless. You and Blaine switched off your comm and went private right before leaving. I saw your GPS blips stop and then start back but then you followed orders. Do not do that again. We depend on each other and if half the team is out of communications with oversight and their other team members, that could be disastrous. Understand? It will not happen again." They both nodded although Blaine looked like she was going to say something but stopped.

"Anne, did you hear the abort order?"

"Yes. But we were so close to getting the data downloaded. It would have only taken another minute."

"Ron, did you hear the order?"

"Yes, but I agree with Anne, we were only minutes away from completing the download, maybe seconds."

"Ron, are you banging Anne?" He was deliberately crude and offensive.

"Agent, what we do on our own time is our own business." Carina snickered and Faith tried not to laugh. Blaine looked at Pope who was suddenly interested in his shoes and she giggled.

"Anne, do you love Ron?"

"That's absolutely none of your business, Agent Talley. None at all."

"If it affects the survival of my team it God damned well is my business. Now, do you? Yes or no."

"I'm – I'm not sure. Maybe. But…"

"I don't think you do because if you love someone you don't let them commit suicide. And that's what you were doing. You had less than 30 seconds and we had to tip our hand that it was a professional op not just a burglary. You'd have been dead or worse, captured by Chechens and that's worse than dying suddenly."

"Ron, you risked your partner's life. That is unacceptable, especially if you have feelings for her. Now, Carina tells me there's no stay behind at the facility and that the Chechens have gone back under their rock. So, we're going back, all of us. I want that data and they'll never expect us to hit them again on the same night. New plan. We go into the north end, right near the computer room and Ron does his thing and then we come back here."

He was so damned pissed he could feel the pain in his chest. He wasn't supposed to get angry. He was supposed to direct, oversee, coordinate, and not get into the shit with a bunch of amateurs.

Carina came up behind him and put her arms around his waist and for once he didn't stop her. "Chuck, you all right? Check pains again? You have got to calm down, understand? You made your point with the two morons. And I think Pope got the message, too. Subtle, Chuck. 'Are you banging…' Very subtle." She laughed and he had to smile.

While they were getting geared up again, Amanda Blaine spoke quietly to Carina. "What's wrong with Talley? I see him rubbing his chest. Is he mission capable? Should he not 'stay in the van', Agent Hansen?"

"He was shot in the heart. Bad for him. It hurts him, sometimes, especially when he's aggravated at dumbassed agents who can't follow instructions."

"We're working with legends. We all want to make a good impression. There's something you need to know. We've got orders to terminate him if he's captured and can't be extracted or if we're about to be taken prisoner. They come from the top. It's not right. I thought you should know. He seems like a good leader who cares for his people. That's rare."

Carina was speechless for a second and then remembered that Art Graham had handpicked these agents. The bastard! She motioned Faith to follow her and she repeated what Blaine had told her and Faith was shocked and then angry.

"Why? Why the kill order? It makes no sense. He's always in the van now, right? I saw him rubbing his chest again. That scares me, Carina. There's too much damned stress on him with this critical mission and dealing with these morons and their lady feelings." Chuck would have said she was channeling Casey. It was something he'd have said.

"I don't know, Faith. She broke faith with her team to tell me. She's as concerned about it as we are although I think her motivation is from a different source. Still, if Graham gave the order, it's legitimate and we need to be very careful what gets back to Langley."

* * *

**Charah House  
****Lantana, FL**

She woke from the dream trembling and sweaty. They'd been running somewhere in the dark, the three of them when he suddenly clutched his chest and fell. He was dead before she reached him and she'd been holding his body to her with one arm and their baby with the other. It was the second night she'd had the dream although last night there'd been no baby.

'This stress is not good for me or you, little one,' she thought, rubbing her baby bump that was still just a figment of her vivid imagination.

Rather than try and go back to sleep, she took a quick shower and then pulled some CDs from the safe and started reviewing and updating the family 'bug out' plan he'd started in Burbank so long and far away.

Bringing up one of several bank accounts spread across the globe, she transferred money from their main account into this one in the Bahamas. She knew that seconds later the deposit would be fractured and redistributed among a series of interlinked banks in the US. The funds would constitute their domestic 'running' funds.

Satisfied that she'd done all she could and not wanting to make decisions alone, she closed everything down and went to the kitchen to make the first of several pots of decaffeinated coffee. She glanced down at her rings – promises of a life together – and smiled. Everything would be fine. She was worried for no good reason. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

APR


	29. Blown Away in the Big Easy

GreenEyedGirl24

The new teams were all in the same van. Carina had bugged it and was listening to the team chatter trying to discover if there were going to be problems from the new agents. "Faith, put on an ear bud and catch the chatter. It's hilarious."

No one in the van was laughing.

"I can't believe he said that. I mean how unprofessional can you get? 'Are you banging Anne?' How crude. What does that have to do with performance on missions?" Anne was on a roll, angry with Talley and his team but also pissed at Ron.

"He got your attention and the point he made was correct. You didn't follow orders, you put the follow up mission in jeopardy, and you endangered your teammates. He was right. You were wrong. We were wrong to even debate coming back and covering you while you finished up. He's the senior agent and he has more experience in the past 6 months than all of us combined since we started."

Eric Pope looked at Amanda and nodded. "Yeah, we were wrong but we were also doing exactly what he told us, leaving no one behind. So I think we just need to write this one off to experience and pay attention and learn."

Anne was having none of it. "I don't care. I'm filing a complaint. He totally disrespected me, us. Someone needs to bring him down a notch. He's not Mr. Infallible. He's made mistakes. He wasn't 'hatched' as an agent."

"Yeah, he probably did make his share of mistakes, but unlike you, Anne, I think he learned from them. He's got a stubborn streak and you don't last as long as he has making the same mistakes over and over. He stands by his rules and principles, something that I haven't seen in the time I've been with the Agency." Amanda surprised herself by defending her mission commander.

"Enough. Let's focus on the mission and not the personalities. Ron, you and Anne know what you have to do. Go in, get it done and then we all move out to the rally point as Talley instructed. No side trips, no delays, no 'doing it my way'. Everyone understand?" He looked in the rear view mirror and saw Anne roll her eyes. He made a decision.

"Childs, stay with the van. You're rear security. If you don't straighten up and get serious about this, I'll have you replaced. Ron, you team up with Amanda and I'll handle over watch. We're here. Lock and load and let's get this done."

* * *

The senior team's van parked beside the other and they joined up and began entering the warehouse complex. "Pope, where's Childs?" Chuck had noticed the missing agent right away.

"Her attitude sucks and she's questioning authority. She can't rise above petty attitudes and so I told her stay with the van. We don't need a crappy attitude on the teams. My responsibility." Chuck nodded in approval, a small smile on his lips. Pope would be fine.

Carina and Faith were on point using infrared night goggles. Carina had wondered about infrared or laser detection and hoped they could spot the sensors on infrared. She was right.

Whispering, she motioned Chuck forward, took off her goggles and handed them to him. "Chuck, infrared sensors and trip wire beams. Not your average security for a warehouse full of machine parts."

"Shit." Chuck handed the goggles to Eric and motioned that Amanda should also look.

"Any ideas?" There was a cross-hatching of beams, invisible to the unaided eye, in a spectrum beyond visible light.

Amanda had reviewed the floor plans and had noted the location of the main power control board for the warehouse. She figured, correctly, that the installation of the secondary security system would still draw power from the main power source.

"Agent, let me try and wiggle through the beams. I'm small and pretty limber. All I have to do is get to the main power control box and I can power down the alarm system." Talley looked at her and grinned. At last, someone who thought outside of the box.

"Go. Be careful. If we trip the alarm, we all exit immediately and leave. We'll come back this evening and do it again. I sent Langley the accumulated info; maybe we'll have something more by then. In the meantime, Amanda, do your thing – and be careful. We don't know what other surprises these dirtbags have in store for us and I don't like surprises when I have a team in contact."

Amanda noted his use of 'we' when he meant that if 'she' tripped the alarm. Another step up in the respect column. Nodding, she stripped down to her underwear and crawled across the first set of beams. It was cold and Chuck could see the gooseflesh appearing. He signaled Ron and whispered, "Go to the van and bring a blanket. She'll be bone cold when she's done."

Minutes later the beams disappeared as Blaine cut power to the main and secondary alarms. The idiots had labeled the junction box and it was child's play to select 'secondary alarm system' and pull the breaker.

Chuck walked over and wrapped her in the blanket and pulled her against him and vigorously rubbed her back to increase warmth and then motioned for Faith to take over. "Take her to the van and get the heater on, Faith. She's frozen. Warm her clothes and then let her get dressed. We'll be done here in a few minutes thanks to Amanda." Her smile included her eyes and she took pride in her job for the first time in a long time.

* * *

As the two agents walked back out to the waiting van Amanda asked Faith if 'he was always like this on missions?'

"If you mean 'does he find fault with plans but not people and publicly praises when someone does something well or accomplishes a difficult task?' Yes. All the time. He finds fault with himself more than others and he recognizes achievements more than others. It's just the way he is."

Seeing that Blaine was still chewing over her response she took a deep breath and broached a sore subject. "It's hard to hate him now, isn't it, Amanda?"

"Wh – What do you mean? I hardly know the man. I – I don't hate him!"

"Oh. _Please_. I was in Atlanta when he took your mark out. I know you felt something for him and I know Chuck knew immediately. He's very familiar with compromising situations and compromised agents. Ask Sarah or Carina. Actually, don't ask Sarah. Talk to Carina."

They opened the van door but it was empty. Anne had left the van and gone somewhere against orders. There would be hell to pay for this.

"Blaine, get dressed and start the van. I have to get back to Talley. Lock the doors and have your weapon in your hand. I do not like this at all." She turned and sprinted across the short parking lot to the warehouse.

She'd almost reached the threshold of open double doors when the warehouse office annex exploded in flames and she was knocked to the ground by the pressure wave, the only thing that saved her from being severely burned.

Amanda rushed to her side, using the blanket to smother the sections of her clothing and hair that had been ignited and still burned or smoldered. She dragged the senior agent to the van and waited…and waited. After the first fire unit appeared down the long line of riverside warehouses and none of her teammates rallied as planned, she started the van and drove slowly along the perimeter looking for surviving teammates.

She saw Anne Childs walking across the road towards a closed gas station and accelerated the van and pulled up beside her, using the open van door as a crude club, knocking her to the ground.

Amanda jumped from the van and pulled the stunned Childs to her feet, screaming at her "Why? Why?" and dumped her in the backseat of the van after securing her with zip ties. She jumped back into the van and drove towards the airport and the final rally point.

They were almost to the airport gate when Faith asked her why Childs was on the floor and where the rest of the team was.

"They're gone. No one made the rally point, Faith, and I saw Childs skulking along beside the warehouse heading towards a vehicle parked beside an abandoned gas station. The bitch killed my team. She's got answers that I want. First of all, why? And then, who? Then I'm going to kill them. They're all gone, Faith."

* * *

They weren't all gone. Just seconds prior to the blast, Pope had discovered the incendiaries and explosives planted around the computers and had alerted the team. They ran to the riverside stairs that led to the subfloor used to load and offload shipments from barges. Chuck shoved Pope down the stairs and was just about to follow his teammates when the explosives detonated and the blast wave sent him tumbling out through the window and into the river 20 feet below.

Carina, Pope and Ron ran down towards the southern end of the warehouse hoping to escape the flames and meet at the alternate rally point. They found the stairs and ramp leading to the warehouse floor and ran up and into the smoke-filled warehouse and out the safety doors into the rear lot. Stopping to catch their breath and regroup Carina turned to ask Chuck for instructions.

"Hey, Chuck, what…" She turned in a circle, fear clawing at her stomach. "Where's Talley?"

"He was right behind me on the stairs…" He grabbed Carina's arm to stop her from going back into the warehouse that was now engulfed in flames. Secondary explosions wracked the structure as the stored munitions detonated and within seconds, the second story collapsed as more stored munitions exploded.

"No, Hansen, he's gone. No one could survive in that. We need to get to the rally point. We need to follow his orders, Carina. We need to finish this."

Without transportation of their own, they called a cab, dragged the cab driver out and handed him $300 and told him to pick his cab up at the airport and there'd be another $300 on the front seat with the keys. If he asked questions or called the cops, they'd kill him. The Pakistani driver nodded and walked toward the phone booth across the street. He was nobody's fool. He'd make $600 for his silence. America was no different than Pakistan.

* * *

They arrived at the airport only a few minutes after Amanda, Faith and Anne Childs. The despondent team entered the hangar and were met by the two agents. Childs was zip tied to a maintenance jack and gagged.

"Oh, my God, Faith? Your hair. Where else were you burned? Are you two OK?" Carina ran and hugged Faith and then a surprised Amanda. She looked around but didn't see Chuck and now her worst fear had come to pass and she started to cry.

Amanda noted the soot-covered agents and the absence of one Chuck Talley and a crying Agent Hansen and angrily asked the questions no one else would. "Where's Agent Talley? He was with you. Where is he? How could you lose him? We don't leave any of our team behind, remember? Those were his orders. Now, where is he? We can go back and get him. Where is he?"

"He didn't get out, Mandy. He…he pushed me down the stairs just as the explosives went off. He didn't even make it into the subfloor. He's gone, Mandy. I'm sorry, but he's gone."

She whirled and stalked toward Anne Childs, a thin-bladed knife in her hand and murder in her heart. But first she'd have answers. Then she'd have revenge for her team leader.

* * *

**Charah House  
Lantana, FL**

Sarah woke with a start. She was so cold but her body was covered in sweat. She felt the dregs of the dream slough off and she hurried to close the windows and find an extra blanket. She couldn't remember the dream but she was swimming in water that was ice cold and then she was in her bed. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she pulled on her robe and walked down to the kitchen to make some tea.

* * *

_**A/N: A chapter or two remaining at the most. This is not a death fic. I just have things to say.**_

_**APR**_


	30. Cold & Wet & Betrayed & Happy

GreenEyedGirl25

**A/N: Hopefully it won't take another 25 days to update. In my defense...I've been goofing off.**  
**APR**

* * *

Anne Childs was still telling her former teammates everything she knew about operations since breaking faith with the CIA and joining Fulcrum. She told them a garish and infinitesimally detailed account of her missions, successes and failures in the period she'd been allied and active with Fulcrum.

Amanda Blaine was furious, feeling somehow cheated of her chance to square things with Charles Talley by acknowledging her debt to him and his team. She hardly knew him and she'd hated him passionately for most of that time. This mission had changed both her perception of Talley and her place in the great game. She stood quietly, listening to Carina call in the after-action report.

"Marley, secure. Your call has been directed to me. Director Graham is in Bethesda Naval Hospital for gall bladder surgery. I'm Assistant Director of Operations, Joseph Marley."

"Hansen, Assistant Director, acting 2IC of Team Talley. Our mission is complete. I have to report one casualty. Agent Talley is dead. One of the reinforcing teams brought a Fulcrum traitor, Code Name 'Daisy', into the operation. Her orders were to kill Talley but she never could execute her plan. You need to pick up the Chechen cell. All their toys are gone, burned up in the fire. They'd booby trapped the facility after we had to abort the first attempt because the traitor failed to follow instructions."

"Talley's dead? Have you confirmed it? Have you seen the body, Agent Hansen?"

"No. The warehouse is still burning. He led us to a sub floor and as we were using the stairs the explosives detonated and he pushed Pope down the stairs and was killed in the blast. No one could have survived. The place was in flames, stored munitions were exploding and the second floor collapsed before the fire fighters arrived. He's…yeah, he's dead."

"I'll have New Orleans – NSA pick up the terrorists. The mission concluded successfully. The threat to the ULCC or the offshore terminal has been eliminated. Return to Lantana. I'll meet your team there. Turn Childs over to the New Orleans - NSA for questioning and send the others back to Langley. I'm sorry about Talley, Agent Hansen. I'll see you in Florida."

She hung up the phone and looked at Amanda Blaine.

"You were listening? You heard everything I said?" She spoke in quiet fury.

"I – I – yes, Agent. I heard every word." She waited for the tongue lashing or worse but it never happened.

"Good. Did I mention the traitor's name during the conversation?"

"No. Only her Fulcrum code name, Daisy."

"Oh, God!" She quickly dialed another number.

"Sarah. 'Bug Out'. Art's in the 'hospital with gall bladder surgery' and Assistant Director Marley is running the show. He's Fulcrum and says he'll meet us all in Lantana. I think it's a clean up or a trap. 'Bug Out', Sarah. We'll meet you at Position Bengal in one week or less."

"Carina, understood. Let me speak with Chuck first, Carina. I'll need to know the number of souls and how long."

"Just you, me and Faith. The others are clean. Chuck's…oh, God, Sarah, Chuck's dead!" Faith heard what was said and rushed over and took the phone from a sobbing Carina. Burned hair crackled and fell from her scalp as the held the cell phone to her ear.

"Sarah, we don't know for certain. Position Bengal. Have faith. He's come back to you from far worse. Carina's just…she feels responsible for it but it was no one's fault. We walked into a trap and he got us out. I'll call you in an hour. Please…don't cry. It's not good for his baby."

* * *

The N.O.P.D. River Patrol boat skirted around the fireboats shooting river water at the burning warehouse trying to prevent the fire from spreading to the other structures that lined the riverbank. The boat's large spotlight was dancing across the river's surface looking for any survivors who might have sought temporary refuge from the flames by jumping into the Mississippi.

"Hey, Skip, we got a floater over by the wharf." The spotlight's beam stayed fixed on the body entangled in the pilings 50 yards downstream from the burning warehouse as the boat accelerated and the other 3 men aboard readied their hooks and grapples to pull the body free and bring it aboard.

A few minutes later the 3 had freed the body from the pilings and debris and pulled it up along side the patrol boat. Two of them reached down and grabbed the harness of his LBE and pulled him aboard.

"Whoa, gun! Skip, we got a dude in spec ops gear and a submachine gun of some kind…and he's alive!" Barely alive. His lips were blue and he was unconscious.

They removed his weapon and extraneous gear and identification and then wrapped him in blankets and chemical heat packs and headed for the maritime police pier. An ambulance would be standing by awaiting their arrival.

The commander of the River Patrol Boat was examining his 'guest's' identification and decided to contact the next of kin in Florida. Maybe she could shed some light on what looked to be some kind of arson.

Amelia answered Sarah's cell. Sarah was in no shape to speak to anyone except a team member. When the caller identified himself as a New Orleans Fire Captain, she motioned for Sarah to monitor the call.

"I am Mr. Talley's housekeeper. His wife is very upset and cannot come to the phone. She's just learned her husband has been killed doing government work. I will help you if I can."

"Ma'am, he's not dead. I'm looking at him. We fished him out of the river. Now, unless you want him in the parish hospital prison ward, someone better start giving me answers. What government work?"

Sarah grabbed the phone. "This is Agent Sarah Talley with the Central Intelligence Agency. I can have a team of agents recover Agent Talley from your custody in less than 30 minutes. Or, if you're a damned bureaucrat, you can process him through the system and a Federal Marshal shall relieve you of him in the morning as well as present you with an obstruction of justice citation from the DOJ."

The fire chief laughed. "Yeah, like I got time for all that bureaucratic bullshit. Send your agents, Agent Talley. I'll have him thawed out and ready for pickup by the time we get back to the municipal dock. Only one question though. What the hell was he doing in that warehouse?"

"I could say 'need to know' but I won't. Terrorists were planning on blowing up a ULCC or the deepwater terminal in order to manipulate the cost of oil on the spec market. My husband and his team stopped them. You'll read all about it in the newspaper. Keep my number. I owe you one and I always repay my debts."

Her next call was to Carina Hansen.

"Hansen, secure. Oh, Sarah, I'm…"

"He's alive! Go to the Fire Department municipal pier and identify yourself to the fire chief of the patrol boat. Talley's on board. Make it quick, Carina. Then you all, all of you, including the bitch Daisy, get to the aircraft and come here, to Charah House. Bring the newbies. We're going to war with Fulcrum and if they show their ugly faces here, they'll die, just like the Yemenis did."

Carina couldn't speak. She handed the phone to Faith and then ran to find the 3 younger agents before they could depart for New Orleans – NSA with the traitor.

Faith followed her in a few minutes wearing the biggest smile anyone had ever seen on her face. Despite the pain and itch of her blistered scalp and cheek, she was floating on Cloud 9. He was alive!

Ron Downs intercepted Faith on her way to the other agents. He put his hand on her bicep and stopped her. She felt a spike of anger but stopped when she noticed what he had in his hand.

"Hold still, Agent Ward. If you don't get all this crap off the scalp and clean the tissues you might scar and a woman with a bald spot, even one as beautiful as you, might find it hard to adjust. It'll just take a second. I have…uh…experience with burns."

She stopped and let him wipe her injury down with a disposable alcohol pad and then another until he was satisfied. He held up a tube of antibacterial spray and covered her eye with a gauze pad and sprayed her burn site liberally.

She started to walk away when he whispered, "Almost done, Agent Ward. Just the antibiotic cream to apply and then you're good to go. You shouldn't scar and there should be no damage to the hair follicles."

"Faith. Call me Faith. And thank you, Agent Downs. It's been a while since anyone but Talley has cared what I might look like. Thank you for caring."

"Ron, Faith. Please call me Ron. And you have to do that twice a day after a gentle antibacterial wash. Then the cream."

"Then I'll be seeing you twice a day, won't I?" She smiled her special smile at him and the two of them went in search of Carina and the others but then she stopped suddenly and turned to face him.

"Experience with burns? How?"

"Medic. Iraq. A thousand years ago."

The teams piled into the Suburban and drove to the municipal pier. Carina had told them not to change from their 'mission jammies' as Chuck called them, figuring the authenticity would cut through any crap about releasing him to their care. She was also prepared to use force to recover the team leader if it became necessary.

But it wasn't necessary. If anything, the fireboat chief was anxious to be rid of him. There he was, still in his mission gear but now clutching a blanket around him, waiting for them, the beginning of a smile on his face.

Carina was the first to reach him and she gently hugged him and then stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, gently and slowly, then relinquishing him to Faith.

Faith almost had him in her embrace when a raspy voice said, "Stop. What have you done to yourself?"

She looked up at him and started crying, deep sobs and heartbreaking hitches in her breath, as he bestowed a series of healing kisses on her face and forehead. There was love there, but not the sexual kind and it was readily apparent to the newer agents.

Carina cleared her throat and said loud enough for them all to hear, "Chuck, Sarah says we're going to war in Lantana and we're all to report back ASAP."

"Where are Agents Childs and Blaine? Carina? Faith? Someone better damned answer me and quickly! Where are our teammates?"

"Childs is a Fulcrum traitor and Blaine is guarding her in the Suburban. I'll explain everything to you on our way to the airport. We need to get out of this frozen town and back to Florida. And you need to get out of those soaking wet clothes and into dry duds. And then talk to Sarah, Chuck. She's in a panic over your latest and she's…well, you need to talk to her. Let's move it, team."

Chuck changed in the Suburban, using the blanket for privacy and as a towel. No one said anything that wasn't mission-related. No one spoke to Childs. No one looked at Childs. She hadn't stopped her sniveling and crying since Chuck entered the van. He looked her over, noted her bruises and glared at Carina who smirked and pointed to Amanda Blaine. She had the good sense to look anywhere else but at Chuck.

Carina filled him in on her call to Marley since Graham was supposedly in the hospital having gall bladder surgery. The slip-up on the names saved their collective asses and they all knew it. Now, given the circumstances, they had no recourse but to band together and await the Fulcrum assault.

As the team members loaded the aircraft, Chuck called Sarah.

"Talley, secure. Chuck, they said you were dead but obviously you're not. So, no bullshit, Chuck, what's your status?"

"I miss you. My status is pissed off and very lonely. Meet our plane, please? Bring Morgan and his big truck. We'll need it to move the arsenal from the plane to the house. Is Amelia still with you?"

"I miss you too, sweetheart. Yes, Amelia's here with her sawn-off 12-gauge and I'll call Morgan as soon as we're done. But answer the damned question, Bartowski, how are you?"

"It's Talley, baby. I'm fine. Just finally thawing out. The Mississippi is damned cold this time of the year. We accomplished the mission by accident but a win is a win. We had a mole in the new team and she almost took us all out by surprise but we're all fine. Um, no, not really. Faith got burned, lost some of her gorgeous locks and has severe blistering on her face but one of the team was a medic in Iraq and she's in good hands. Look, I have got to fly…literally. See ya in two hours, wife."

"Yeah. Two hours, husband…and father." She grinned through her tears and disconnected the call. She hadn't meant to spring it on him quite some flippantly but she felt he needed the boost.

She was right, of course.

Chuck stared at the phone, trying to form words but nothing would happen. No sounds. No stammering. Nothing. Finally, "CARINA!"

His grin threatened to split his face in two and Carina knew he knew.

"Yeah, pappy?"

"You knew? You knew and still let me run the mission? You knew?"

"Hey, all's well that ends well. And besides, I'm a future auntie, and I was not going to let anything happen to you. Not now, not ever."

"Fine. Get your butt on the plane. Secure Childs, brief the team on accommodations and then you will sit down and tell me everything you know about Sarah's 'surprise'."

* * *

_**A/N: Maybe one or two more. Then it's over.**_


	31. Homecoming and MIB Threat

GreenEyedGirl26

The two-hour flight was spent recapping the mission, passing out kudos and then explaining to the newer members of Team Talley just what they were in for.

"So, if anyone wants out, if anyone thinks they should follow their lawful orders, walk away from the plane when we land. No harm, no foul, and no dishonor. Just give us the courtesy of delaying your first contact with Langley for 12 hours. After that, it won't matter very damned much."

"Now, Carina will go over the room assignments, the functional defenses and the possible fall back positions. Pay attention and don't be afraid to ask questions. The only stupid question is the one you don't ask. Carina, do your thing. I'm going forward and take a nap. Faith, make sure Agent Downs looks at you every 4 hours or so and don't skimp on the meds. You know we have more in Lantana."

It seemed like he'd just fallen asleep when Carina shook him gently by the shoulder to wake him.

"Chuck, we're on final approach. Thought you might want to be wide awake for your homecoming."

"Yeah, thanks. Everyone settled? No problems? Any questions you didn't feel comfortable with?"

"Yeah. Everyone wants to know what we're going to do with Childs. No one wants to room with her and none of the troops has indicated they're opting for Langley. So what about Childs? I think Blaine wants to kill her. Faith told me she had to stop her from cutting her up into little pieces. She's a convert, Chuck. You got another woman willing to throw herself under the bus for you."

"Jealous, Shorts? I think she's just overcompensating for the whole 'I fell for a traitor and was going off the grid' moment in Atlanta. I know something else is buggin' ya, so come clean, sweetie."

"I thought you were dead, Chuck, and I told Sarah you were dead. I just feel…terrible about it. We were going to bug-out to Bengal when she asked for the soul count and I just blurted it out. I'm so sorry. I should have known you'd pop up with a damned rose between your teeth. I just wanted that out in the open."

"I was dead. You didn't lie. Well, OK, I was almost dead. Another 10 minutes and hypothermia would have been irreversible. No blame, Shorts. Put it out of your mind, OK?"

The plane taxied onto the arrivals apron and then into the private hangar and shut down. The mission had lasted more than two weeks and Chuck, Carina and Faith were anxious to get home and start working on upgrading defense plans now that they had 'reinforcements'.

The agents and their prisoner debarked and went into a private 'reception lounge' that doubled as a temporary storage area for 'illegal items'. Hot coffee and drinks were available as was a small 'closet' for the temporary housing of 'detainees'. Childs was pushed into the closet and the door was slammed and locked.

Carina had contacted Sarah by cell immediately prior to final approach and advised her of their arrival time. Sarah told her to 'sanitize' the team because 'an outsider' was coming in – Morgan – and his big truck. Carina had already peeled off several layers of clothing. She was home in Florida and intended to lie out in the sun as long as possible as often as possible and maybe she could thaw out in a week or two.

The pilots disappeared exactly as expected and within moments of engine shut down a maintenance crew sprang into action, changing the registration numbers and paint scheme and logging the plane back into the small CIA-operated airline inventory.

Morgan took one look at the changes in progress to the plane, the nervous energy radiating off Chuck's companions and the boxes marked 'explosives' and turned around and opened the back of his truck and started moving stuff into the bed. The two male agents lent a hand and they were packed and ready to move out in less than 15 minutes.

Chuck took Morgan aside for a brief conversation that went something like this:

CB: "Morgan, forget what you saw here tonight. It's legal and that's all you have to worry about."

MG: "Um, some of that stuff, Chuck, is high-grade military stuff. Jesus, you're not smuggling arms or anything are you? Sarah called and said you needed the truck not that I was going to be running guns for some mercenaries! Are we into that? Is Charah just a front for illegal stuff? C'mon, we've been friends since the 6th grade. You can trust me."

CB: "I do, Morgan, and that's why I'm not going to wave my little 'fuggedaboutit' light thingy in your face and fry a bunch of brain cells. Understand? You saw the movie, Morgan. It's true. MIBs do exist. We don't wear suits is all, at least not all the time."

Morgan Grimes, to his credit, just smiled and walked to the truck and told Sarah he'd leave it in the driveway and take one of the Suburbans home.

They hadn't made eye contact or even acknowledged each other's presence. Chuck had dealt with Morgan and Sarah had greeted her team and been introduced around to the temporary members. The newbies were a little bit in awe of meeting 'Sarah Walker Talley' but she quickly put them at ease and soon they were regaling her with 'tales of Talley' and the mission.

As if someone had given a signal, they walked over to one another and embraced.

"Hello, wife. How's the baby making coming along?"

"Hello, husband. Got a while to go, Pops. Like 8 months but it's coming along nicely with everything on schedule."

"That wasn't the 'flu' wasn't it? You weren't sick. You were having periodic bouts of morning sickness." He hadn't let go of her and they were talking quietly in each other's ear. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to wake up.

"Yep. You knocked me up good, Chuck. Now, take me home and lets get the others settled and then I want you to tell me all about New Orleans. And then, since it's late and you've had a busy night, I want to skip the Tango proceed right to the Bolero."

"You feel up to it, Sarah? I don't want anything to…"

She was up to it and she started right then and there. The team and the newbies were all smiles and Faith Ward and Ron Downs and the others walked out into the hanger to give them some privacy.

Amanda looked at a grinning Carina and asked, "Are they always like this? So oblivious to the rest of us?" Eric Pope lagged behind, unconsciously pulling rear security but keeping an eye on Amanda and an ear on their conversation.

"Well, they still have their clothes on. But they're both very aware of everything happening around them – on some level. Right now, they aren't worried. That's a good thing since it means they trust us all to have their backs."

"What about the bitch in the closet? What are we going to do with her?"

"Bury her up to her neck in the sand on the beach and watch the tide come in. Let Nature and the crabs have her. Better than she deserves."

Amanda blanched and glanced at Eric. Surely…

Carina waited for 10 seconds and then started laughing. "The look on your faces…"

"It seems kinda…barbaric, Agent Hansen."

"I was kidding! We have a small area with a secure door. She'll sit in there in cuffs until Chuck figures out what to do with her."

A short one but I have a lot to do.

APR


	32. Fish or Cut Bait

GreeneyedGirl27

* * *

Surprise!

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

The tension of the mission, his fatigue and her fears scratched any thought of 'Bolero' or anything other than just holding each other and sleeping. Neither had realized the toll the separation had taken until they'd showered and then gotten into bed. No words were necessary. She plastered herself against him and neither really knew when sleep overtook them.

They awoke within seconds of one another. Brown eyes smiled at blue eyes and small murmurs of love were exchanged and then Sarah dropped her morning bombshell.

"Chuck, I want out. I can't do this anymore. It's not good for the baby. I want out. Make it happen. Soon. I don't want to go it alone, but I will if I have to until…until you can break free and join us. I'm not abandoning you, beloved, I could never do that."

Chuck had expected this eventually, just not so soon. He figured she'd 'mother-up' sometime late in the second trimester but not this soon. He had nothing planned for such an early 'egress' as a couple. Nothing at all. Despite her pledge of not 'abandoning you', she was and for reasons he couldn't refute.

"I'll put it at the top of the list. I'm going to review our bug out status this morning so please give me some 'alone-time' from the kids. I'll - I'll have to recast our plans, exclude the team since there's no overt threats other than this idiot who suborned Graham's authorities. I'll report that to UA this morning also."

She tried to hug him, to show her love and support but he rolled off the bed and walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She heard the shower and lay back in his missing warmth and sighed.

'_I should have waited. I shouldn't have just hit him with it when he wasn't even wide awake. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He just came back from a hairy mission and has to deal with the traitor and reintegrate the team and I hit him with 'I want out'. I haven't learned a damned thing about him. It's going to be like the months after Lynn died, only this time it's me who'll be leaving him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Damned hormones.'_

* * *

He finished his shower and tugged on his boxers, shorts and a raggedy Henley he liked to laze around in and walked down the back stairway to the kitchen. It was only 8:30 but the newbies and Carina and Faith were already chowing down on Amelia's famous cholesterol-laden breakfasts. He poured himself a cup of coffee and walked out onto the rear verandah, skirting the pool and walking down to the beach.

Faith nudged Carina and nodded towards the image of Chuck she saw through the tinted glass windows. Carina sighed and pushed her plate away. Sometimes she wanted to kick Sarah Talley in the butt for ignoring the 'real' Chuck Bartowski and dealing with Chuck Talley.

They weren't the same people and she seemed to forget how insecure and uncomfortable Bartowski was with all the shit that surrounded him. It was only Talley that kept him sane and alive. His inner Chuck was still Bartowski at heart. It's what made him so damned difficult to deal with sometimes but so easy to love.

Amelia caught the look between the two team members and walked over and took Carina's plate away saying she'd put it in the warmer for her or just cook her another breakfast. "You need to put on some meat, _hija_, storm season is coming." Carina's eyes flashed to hers and something was exchanged. Forgiveness? She didn't know exactly but she'd finally been accepted in Amelia's 'inner circle'.

She followed Chuck down to the beach and sat down beside him not saying a word, just letting him know he wasn't alone. If he wanted to talk, fine. If he didn't, that was OK, too. It took 3 minutes, 76 waves, before he spoke.

"She wants out, Shorts. She's planning on bugging out on her own if necessary. We're not positioned for a final break, only an emergency bug out. It's too damned soon and I was caught flat-footed. Me! The one with plans within plans. I didn't see this coming, not this soon. Hell, two days ago we were a couple, now were expectant parents. I'm not ready for this. Not at all."

"You're worried about Faith and I, aren't you? Well, don't be. We both figured you and Sarah would leave eventually and we've talked about it. We're fine with it. Just lease the house to us for $1 a year and we'll be good to go. Wow, parties, orgies, beach volleyball, seduction missions. The possibilities are endless, Chuck."

She was trying desperately to lighten his load, reduce his guilt. He had guilt down to a science. It would be the death of him some day.

"Ever wonder what things would be like if we'd just gone off the grid in Ol' Mejico and told the greater good and Graham to go fuck themselves?"

"Only when I'm horny and drunk and feel like feeling sorry for myself. It would never have worked out, honey, and you know it. I'm not a one-guy girl." She was lying to herself.

"Chuck, we don't know Graham's status. I think I'll call him again to report our 'safe return' and see who answers the phone. If it's the traitor, we probably need to hunker down and adopt a short-term fortress mentality. If it's Graham, I'll report and then you can contact him later. How's that for a plan, boss?"

"Works for me. Glad someone is thinking. I was just too damned tired last night. Thank God nothing happened."

"Well, I wouldn't say nothing happened. I think Faith got laid last night. Our resident medic must have an intriguing bedside manner if the look of satisfaction on her face is any indication." She giggled and nudged him for a response.

"Make sure she keeps the antibiotics going. She'd look…weird…with a bald spot."

"What about the bitch in the closet?"

"Call Graham and hope he answers. She's beyond redemption. We'll haul her ass down to the Miami Center and leave her. Maybe you could take an elevator ride with her? Soften her up?"

"Oh, honey, Blaine's already tenderized the bitch beyond belief. She's still sniveling and whining and crying. Amelia almost took the shotgun to her when Faith explained what happened."

"Miami it is for her then. This afternoon if Graham's in place. Maybe later if he's still in the hospital or dead."

"You going to be OK, Chuck? I need to call Graham and then get the newbies organized and start planning a more forward defense strategy. See? I learned some things from you. Keep the bastards from getting a toehold on Charah House. So, can I trust you out here alone, unsupervised, without an adult present?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I just need to think this through. I can't just walk away from it all, Shorts. I gave my word to see some things through to the end. Go ahead and call Graham. Let's see if we're orphans or if we still got a Daddy in DC."

* * *

Carina walked back to the house, slowly gathering her thoughts. First, she'd ream Sarah out for putting Chuck through such an emotional wringer after a hairy mission while she'd sat on the sidelines. Then she'd get with Faith and see what she thought about the whole situation with the newbies and then, once the local situation was 'stabilized', she'd try to reach Graham and hope he hadn't met with 'an untimely demise'.

Sarah was drinking a glass of juice and staring out the window at her husband sitting just dry-side of the surf line. She wished she'd kept her own counsel and just waited until things had calmed down a little. She saw Carina coming back up the steps from the beach and steeled herself for a well-deserved tongue-lashing. Carina was very protective of Chuck and would probably go to her grave loving him. It was the main reason Sarah tolerated her usual 'bullshit' attitude. Carina would always have his back.

"OK, sis, go ahead. I figure he's wallowing in guilt and trying to figure out how the hell to pull off meeting my ultimatum. I shouldn't have said anything so soon. He hasn't had time to adapt to being a father yet. I've been unfair to him especially so soon after this past operation. Go ahead, say it. I'm a bitch and I haven't learned a damn thing about the care and feeding of Chuck Bartowski. I won't hear anything I haven't said to myself already."

"You need to know a couple of things. He asked me what I thought would have happened if we'd just gone off the grid in Mexico. I told him it never would have worked out. I lied to him. I'd have made it work so keep that in mind if you haul ass and leave him behind. I'll make it work this time."

"I don't know what to do. I'm overwhelmed with the need to protect my baby, our baby. All this stress and anxiety over this last mission isn't good for our child. I don't know if this is normal or just aggravated by my damned hormones. Maybe I need to talk to Ellie. Maybe this is normal but hell, what's 'normal' for people in our line of work and situation?"

"Call Ellie. Find out what's up with these feelings. If they're normal, then deal with them. If they're not, get help. If you leave him without giving him a chance to adapt and plan, you don't deserve to have him in the first place. Look around. Remember what this represents. I need to call Graham and see if he's still alive. Just don't threaten to leave him alone again. You won't like his response."

"Too late. This is his response. He'll hunker down, adopt a bunker mentality and work on a plan while balancing all this crap somehow. I can't take back what I said. He knows I meant it whether it was hormonal or me. I've got to deal with the train wreck I've caused."

"Yeah, you do. It's all on you, Sarah. Fix it or leave as painlessly as possible and keep in touch. Once this settles down, if I haven't got my hooks in too deeply, he'll want to see his child."

Sarah's eyes narrowed and for just a brief instant Carina could see her own death reflected in them but then as suddenly as it flashed, it was gone.

"I'll call Ellie right now. You call Graham. Then I'll see about fixing what I broke. If I do leave, understand something, Carina. He's my husband and the father of my baby. My leaving to safeguard his child is not abandoning him, it's protecting our child. Do not try and get between us. You won't fit for long."

* * *

Arthur Graham was indeed, alive and kicking. Right this moment he was kicking himself for not establishing a contingency for being out of the loop with Team Talley. His surgery had been a real emergency and he wasn't conscious enough, given the heavy sedatives, to contact someone trustworthy to handle the liaison duties short term so when Carina's call came, it was no surprise.

"Graham, secure."

"Hansen, secure. So, you're still alive? You know putting a hit out on Talley if he was taken or in danger of being taken was not a good idea, Uncle Art. Nor was letting that asshole take your spot. He infiltrated an assassin onto the team and we almost lost Chuck. Now, the mission was a success, he's stressed beyond belief, your orders destroyed any trust you'd established and we need instructions for handling the traitor. She one of your hand-picked agents, Art, so you better have a great explanation for how 'Daisy' got on our team."

"That's a detailed spot report, Agent. Yes, I'm still alive. The DSCOPS was in the chain of command when I was ill so that's the system, deal with it. As for the 'kill order', it's SOP where the intersect is concerned. You know that. I just didn't trust you or Ward to pull the trigger. As for Daisy, take her to Miami. Tell them 'max effort' of the interrogation. I assume she's still alive, right?"

"Agent Blaine has tenderized her and we have beaucoup info on Fulcrum that she extracted. I'll prepare a report by normal channels. Now, we want down-time. At least a month. And Chuck wants the newbies assigned to Team Talley. It's not negotiable, Uncle Art. I support his decision."

He laughed. It was a reasonable request. They'd do much better with more team members. "Done. Use the month to integrate the team. I'll await your report. Anything else? It must be the drugs. I'm not normally so agreeable so you best take advantage…"

"Yes. Get him his damned boat back. It's one of the few joys in life he has. And make it big. We might all want to take a trip to Bermuda or Jamaica or the Bahamas and don't want to sleep squished like sardines."

"OK, OK. Jesus, little girl, you're worse than his wife. How's she doing by the way? Still sick?"

"Yeah. Still sick. She's going to the doctor again and don't suggest one of your quacks in Miami…she's going to a real doctor. I'm calling Chuck's sister in so be prepared for the bill."

* * *

She hung up and laughed. She got everything she wanted. Chuck would have been so proud of her. Next she called Ellie, not her favorite person in the whole world but a necessary element in the mix. Ellie hated her so she was surprised when she took her call.

"Carina, what's wrong? Is it Chuck? Sarah? The baby? She didn't lose the baby, did she?"

"Calm down, Ellie. Listen, we need you down here immediately. Sarah's gone all hormonal and demanding that they go off the grid. At least I hope it's hormones. She's putting incredible stress on him just after a really hairy and physical op. Please, Ellie, do it for Chuck and Sarah. She's put him in a dark place with this demand of hers and she's told him she'll go alone if she has to."

"I'll be there on the next available flight. My God, hormones don't cause…well, I don't know for sure. I'll do my research and contact some colleagues in OB and Psych. I'll be down tomorrow. Should I rent a car or can you meet me?"

"We have new team members. I'll send a pair for you. The challenge is 'Why couldn't my brother meet me?' and the response is 'He's with his wife'. If you hear anything else, scream rape, robbery, anything to attract security. They'll meet you at baggage claim."

"Got it. Thanks for calling. I'll see you late tomorrow. I'll call with flight times. Uh oh, it's Sarah on call waiting, should I tell her you called?"

"Um, no. Unless you can treat her over the phone, plan on coming down. I don't like the corner she's put him in. He's under tremendous stress as it was. The last mission was run without Sarah so maybe this is just the result of too much 'alone time'."

"OK. I've got to take her call."

* * *

She disconnected and took Sarah's call. "Hey, what's up? Still enduring morning sickness?" '_Keep it light'_, she told herself.

"Yeah, but it eased up. I guess I have two more months of morning retch ahead of me." _'Keep it light'_, she told herself.

"So, raging hormones, sensitive breasts, feeling bloated? God, Sarah, I envy you. It'll be years before we can afford a child the way things are going with our careers."

"That's why I called. Raging hormones…can they prompt 'impetuous' decisions? Make me say things I might think but would never dream of saying? Make me crazy?"

"Yes…and no. Have you seen the OB/GYN yet?"

"No, not while Chuck was out…on business, Ellie. I wanted us to go together."

"Sometimes pregnancy can exacerbate undiagnosed conditions…"

"You mean that I might be crazy as a loon, Ellie, is that what you're saying? I didn't call you to hear such crap! Damn it…oh, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"I'm coming down there. Is Chuck back yet?" She already knew the answer but wanted to keep her call with Carina private.

"Oh, Ellie…" She dissolved into tears and it took Ellie a while to calm her down. And it took her a few minutes to calm herself down when she heard about Sarah's 'ultimatum'."

"Do you remember me telling you about the time Lynn gave Chuck a 'fish or cut bait' choice? Maybe you forgot but you're doing the same thing and he'll just dig in his heels and fight you every step of the way or worse, he'll give you exactly what you asked for, just like he did with Lynn, and she came to regret it."

"I know. I know. I screwed up so bad. What can I do?"

"Talk to him. Explain your fears. Tell him the truth and don't hold a damned thing back. Tell him I'm coming down for some sun. Don't turn on his damned spy suspicions. And Sarah, I'm not on anyone's side. I'm the impartial observer here. Now, make the damned appointment and rule out anything organic."

"I will, Ellie. I promise." She disconnected the call and went in search of her pouting husband. _'Stop with the attitude. He's not pouting. He's probably frantic trying to meet my demands and still be able to provide us with a safe haven,'_ she battled with herself.

* * *

Carina had organized the newbies and Faith into convoying the traitor down to Miami Center. She gave them a timeframe and told them to call her every 15 minutes with an update. She wanted nothing left to chance. Anne would be in the deepest hole in Miami before nightfall.

It felt odd watching her team leave without her but her duty was here. She had a report to write for Graham, tell Sarah about the 'big boat' and then spend time just making sure nothing happened to upset them further. She would welcome the check-ins and God help them if they were more than a few minutes late calling home to 'mother'.


	33. PreFlight Preparations

GreeneyedGirl28

A/N: Blame Evilredknight for this one. The evil Canucks review with a passion and vengeance. Sometimes, like Evil, they're right on the money. And Getafx, enjoy. All you Canadians, quit sending Nik PMs. Find some cuddly Harp Seal or an Inupiat to cuddle with. Winter's coming despite AlGore.

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Carina walked into the kitchen in search of her breakfast. Amelia was out doing the marketing and she found her plate, newly filled with everything she liked, in the warmer. Grabbing her coffee, she went out on the verandah to absorb some sun and leach the Louisiana cold from her bones. Sarah found her there and recounted her phone call with Ellie.

"So she's coming down later tonight and wants someone to meet her. I'm going to lie back down and try and get these emotions under control before I do or say something irreparable."

"Um, Art's sending a replacement for the '_Smile_', something that'll take the expanded team cruising if we all have to go out on the bounding Main together. Thought that might perk you up a bit. We've got a month of 'down time and reintegration' to pull it all together. Can you hold out that long without slipping away into the night?" She wasn't being catty, just inquisitive.

"I don't know. I'll try. Ellie's going to be a Godsend. She'll keep Chuck centered and I really look forward to talking with her. We'll make the OB/GYN appointment and Chuck wants to come with me, if only to hear what the doctor says about these mood swings and…other stuff."

"Good. Why don't you hold off on your nap and see to your husband? Just let him know what Art said. Maybe getting a new boat will cheer him up a little? Just don't start anything, please? Tell him Anne's on her way south and Art's sorry for the screw up on handling the authorities for the mission. Apparently the Agency followed established protocols and we got the asshole instead of someone Art trusted."

"Yeah. I'll do that. Chow down, Carina. Hurricane season's not over yet."

"Yeah. I'll just enjoy a few more cups of coffee. It tastes really great. Just think, 9 more months and you can have a cup." Walker was a coffee addict and withdrawal was killing her and Carina was just petty enough to wave the cup under her nose.

Carina laughed as Sarah growled at her and set out to find her husband. Decaf was worse than 3.2 or imported beer. '_Chuck has definitely rubbed off on me._'

* * *

Faith Ward drove the big Suburban like it was her Prius. She no longer felt intimidated by a vehicle that she could easily park her beloved little Toyota in without touching the sides. Today, however, her mind was far from I-95 and stuck back in Lantana where something major and unsettling had occurred between the Team's two senior agents.

Carina had taken her aside after the mission briefing to take the traitor down to 'The Center' and gven her a quick rundown on what had happened between Chuck and Sarah. She told her to 'take your time getting back here with the kids' and to give the Talleys some space. She would have said more but she was not willing to spread any speculation about the Team's future. Only the two veteran agents were to know about the rift in the senior team's dynamic.

* * *

Sarah walked over to the telescope that was mounted on a tripod. Sometimes Chuck would pull up a chair and gaze at the night sky and other times he'd just sit and scan the horizon for passing ships. It was his way of losing himself in nothingness.

She used the telescope to survey the beach and saw her husband sitting just ahead of the surf line, leaning back on his elbows staring out towards France. That's how far away his mind was. He looked like some beach bum taking a break from combing the beach for anything to sell, trade or pawn in his ratty shorts and Henley.

* * *

His thoughts weren't just 'over the horizon in France'. They were on Belize and the house he'd purchased through a dummy corporation before Walker had reappeared in his life.

He'd lied to his wife. A first.

'_I've always had a bug-out in place since arriving here with Carina. After Mexico, there was no one I could trust, no one except Morgan. My hiding place, my option of last resort – Belize. Sure, we've got the money stashed all over the globe and periodically reconsolidate it in the Caymans and then send it out again, but WE don't have a physical place to go off the grid. San Pedro Town was just a temporary stop on my way elsewhere, not a permanent refuge.'_

He pulled out his cell and called his best friend.

"Morgan, Chuck. I'm coming over so I'll bring your truck back and drive back in the Suburban. I need some help from a source of absolute trust, buddy. I need you to do something for me that no one – I repeat – no one can or must ever know about. It's legal, Morgan. When have I ever asked… Fine. Twenty minutes or so."

He walked briskly back to the house, avoided his wife, and drove over the bridge to Lantana and then down to Boynton Beach and offices of CharahCorp International.

Anna met him at the office door with a worried look on her face. He knew Morgan would have blabbed to his wife about last night's airport scene and he would need to impress on him the need for absolute secrecy about the assignment he had for him.

He ate lunch with the Morgans, put off any questions about the previous evening by simply asking Anna 'So when are you and Morgan going to have a bunch of little Annas and Morgans?' He chuckled to himself. The thought of having children was terrifying to Morgan but Anna saw it as another hook in her husband's paycheck. He knew that look from years ago. She had looked at Morgan as if he was lunch and she was a hungry wolf.

He told Morgan what he needed and where he needed it. He handed him a list of 'amenities' that were required as well as the bank account information. He was to run everything through the dummy corporation he'd used to hand the San Pedro Town transaction.

"Morgan, Sarah's preggers and she wants out of the life. I can't do it right now since we have nothing organized for a bug-out except Ambergris Caye and that's purely a way station. You've got the list. Make it happen. I figure I'll send Sarah to San Pedro Town and join her in a few months. Morgan, I'm going to have to 'die' and that means you and Anna become instant millionaires. You'll get instructions via email just like Mexico. Questions?"

It turned out that Morgan had questions (of course) and quite a few suggestions, most of which were junk-ravings but several were pure genius.

"Yeah, I like that. Go ahead. We'll hook up later and review progress."

Chuck laughed all the way to the Suburban and was still in a good mood when he pulled the Suburban into the carriage house garage. He checked the misting system to make sure the orchids were getting enough water and walked, whistling, into the back of the kitchen. He'd stayed later than he'd planned but it had been worth it.

* * *

Amelia was not pleased with him and her tone echoed her emotions.

"_Jefe_, Sarah has gone to West Palm Beach to pick up the doctor. She'll be back in a few hours. Carina and Faith and the new agents are eating dinner at the Three Georges. You missed dinner. Sit, eat, and tell me why your wife cried all morning after you left?" The look she gave him would have curdled milk. She'd become very protective of her pregnant _hija._

He gave her a brief explanation simply to defuse the situation. She would continue to support Sarah but understood the problem better than he'd expected. She promised to help keep her spirits up and focused on the baby rather than their situation.

Chuck pulled the laptop he and Sarah shared for household stuff and pulled up a file folder entitled 'insurance policies'. It was heavily encrypted with an algorithm known only to the two of them.

He moved money around, putting a hefty sum into the Barclays Bank in Belize City. He also entered an account code and username and password he'd established when he and Carina had first come to Florida. The account held his private stash and was in a Lantana Bank under the name George Murphy, a nod toward his friend the broken pelican and his favorite watering hole. He transferred all but $1,000 to a CharahCorp account set up for just such a purpose.

Morgan would sell all of Chuck's personal stock holdings and deposit the proceeds in this account. Morgan was authorized to draw on those funds to complete his project. Satisfied that he'd done all he could without tipping his hand or alerting his team, he shut down the files and put the laptop back on Sarah's desk.

He'd send his wife away to safety the same day Ellie flew back to Baltimore. They'd use the cover of Ellie leaving to position Sarah at the airport. None of his team would be in on the plan. He'd make up some bullshit about them having it out and Sarah going off the grid until the baby was born and then they'd decide if the Talleys were still viable. He didn't trust anyone with the safety of his wife and baby. Not even Carina.

Chuck went up to his room, opened the gun safe and lifted a false bottom and pulled out their emergency documents, passports and birth certificates, all the documents needed to provide a strong cover.

He sorted through them until he found Samantha Turner and Charlie Turner and set them aside. He replaced their remaining emergency documents in the false bottom, replaced the floor plate and relocked the gun safe.

* * *

Ellie and Sarah talked about everything that had happened since their call the previous day. Things were 'frosty' between the two and hopefully Ellie would be able to bring some kind of sanity to their lives.

"Sarah, the mood swings are normal. They won't go away until your hormones return to 'normal' levels. It's Nature and you can't fight it. Your attitude is pretty much the only thing you can control. Chuck will insist on coming to the OB/GYN with us and I think you should let him. He needs to hear this from a disinterested party. He forgives easier than most people."

Sarah's temper flared. She knew that Ellie was throwing a 'dig' at her because of her threat to leave Chuck for the baby's sake if he wouldn't go off the grid.

"Ellie, you have no…" she started to say but Ellie cut her off.

"Right? I have no right? I'm his sister and your sister-in-law. I have every right to be concerned, voice my opinion and offer my help. I love you both and that's my niece or nephew you're carrying. If something should happen to you both after the birth, I expect to raise it – got it?"

"No. I was going to say that you have no idea what I've been going through while he was gone. Dreams of him dying mostly, but other dreams, and I'm so tired of being afraid all the time. Afraid I'll make a mistake and he'll be hurt or worse, afraid that I'll be less than he needs, afraid that someone like me will take him from me if I'm not there with him..."

Ellie started to snicker and then giggle and then laugh. "Oh, Sarah, you're the last one who should worry about that. He's so gone on you that…just never mind. For a smart spy you sure are a stupid girl when it comes to my brother."

"So, if we both buy the farm you'll watch out for little Chuck?" She'd been touched by Ellie's demand.

"Or little Sarah. It could be either. Right about now it's the size of a large grape or a small plum, maybe smaller…determining the sex is impossible without a special test this early in a pregnancy. You'll just have to wait until the 4th or 5th month."

They talked about the physical changes she could anticipate and then she brought up the reason for her visit.

"I pulled in a favor from a guy at Johns-Hopkins and got us in to see the premier OB/GYN in Florida. She's in West Palm Beach, of course, and we've got an appointment for 2pm tomorrow. Chuck will want to come along, I suppose. I'll brief him on her qualifications. They don't come better."

* * *

Carina had decided to make herself scarce and give Chuck, Sarah and Ellie time to talk without the team around. She called Faith and arranged to meet the team at the Three Georges for dinner. Maybe Murphy would finally allow her to feed him. Damned bird. She grinned remembering how the brown pelican had hopped up on the table and shit on Bryce's plate. The bird was a good judge of character. She wondered if the bird could be a traitor-detector? The thought of Murphy walking all over people's plates and agents watching for bird crap tickled her to no end.

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Amelia was delighted to see 'Dr. Ellie' and laid out a delicious dinner for the three of them. Chuck barely touched his food but demolished a six-pack of beer. Ellie, the recovering alcoholic, raised an eyebrow to Sarah when he excused himself, cleaned off his plate in the trash and went out to sit on the verandah. After a few minutes, he walked down to the beach.

"Sarah, is he drinking this much all the time now?" She was concerned because of her own problem and its impact on her family.

"It started before he left for New Orleans. I think my comments about wanting a baby just after Atlanta got him to thinking and then when it didn't happen and I got more and more unhappy with not being pregnant, well, yeah. I told him I wanted a family but didn't think I could get pregnant and that guilted him up a lot because he said he'd wanted kids, too."

Chuck walked out to the surf line and put his finger down his throat to throw up all the beer he'd had. He was not drinking to drown his sorrows but to make Ellie worry about something other than 'poor Sarah'. The more 'issues' he could concoct, the more readily they would accept her abrupt departure. He'd rather they blame him than her.

He sat down and quickly reviewed a mental 'checklist' of provisions for the initial team breakup. The only thing he had to do was convince Sarah that 'now' was the time for her to leave. He still had a month or two of waiting until Morgan completed his tasks. Chuck wanted no breadcrumbs to lead the CIA or NSA to the couple. The break would be final. There would be no turning back. There would be no coming back, either.


	34. Delude, Deceive, Deny

GreenEyedGirl29

A/N: Maybe one or two more. Hope you've kept up. APR

* * *

OB/Gyn Associates, APC  
West Palm Beach, FL

Chuck sat in the waiting room while the doctor did the internal examination and then was taken to a conference office by a nurse and met up with Ellie and Sarah. She smiled her special smile at him and he nodded, smiling hesitantly back. The whole thing with doctors scared the crap out of him. If something was wrong, nothing he nor the power of the intersect could help. He hated feeling helpless.

The doctor was brief and to the point: Nothing unusual, nothing to prevent Sarah carrying the baby to term and nothing wrong physically. The blood tests would take a few days to process and she would call them for another immediate appointment to discuss the results. They were not to worry. Everything was as it should be.

Ellie chatted with the doctor about mutual friends, did the whole 'remember what'shisname' while Chuck went to get the Suburban and meet his wife and sister at the door. It was raining and they'd forgotten their umbrella in the truck.

Chuck was walking down into the underground parking garage when his cell rang.

"Talley, secure."

"Graham, Chuck. I got a big-assed boat on its way to Lantana. You're welcome. Try not to blow this one up? It was a bear getting one to meet Carina's specs and not require a crew. It's all tripped out with everything you required but now will sleep eight in 3 staterooms and a master suite. Have fun, Chuck. Relax. Enjoy the rest of the month."

"Thanks, Art. Um, Sarah's pregnant. We're at the OB/GYN now. Ellie came down to keep her company and to answer some questions. According to the doc, she's in great shape, good health, with no problems from her early days, if you get my drift. So, Grandpa, when you coming down? Retire, Art. There's room at Charah House for you."

"Gran…Grandpa? Oh, my. Me, a grandfather? Well, foster grandfather but…God, I wish Cathy were still here. She'd be breaking the bank buying baby stuff. You be careful now, Chuck. You have responsibilities beyond the two of you. I've been thinking about retirement. I'll let you know. Gotta go…son."

"Wait! There's something else! What about putting her on indefinite leave for the duration of the pregnancy and maybe for a while after your grandson is born? She's…afraid, Art, and I'm scared she'll lose focus and get hurt or something. Don't answer now. Just…think about it."

"I'll check the regs. HR might have provisions. Not an area I'm familiar with. Only the intersect team gets my personal touch. I'll get back with you within the week. You take damned good care of my daughter and my grandwhatever and stay out of the damned hospital. Some of us have budgets to live within!"

"Um, Art, whatever happens, you know I'll stay the course?"

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Dinner was relaxed and the conversation flowed. Sarah was less-standoffish with the group feeling much relieved that her doctor was so positive about her health and her ability to carry the baby to term. Ellie had prepped the doctor with a brief history of Sarah's past and the doctor had been meticulous in her examination.

"So, Shorts, Art called today. Seems someone put in an order for a, and I quote the Pimp, 'a big-assed boat' and it's being delivered tomorrow or the next day to Lantana. Know anything about the 'special requirements' Graham told me he had to satisfy, Carina?"

She blushed and then grinned across the table at him. "I wanted him to have to pony up the best he could. And I know you and Sarah loved the _'Smiles'_ and I just asked him to find one that would haul the entire team around in the even it proved necessary, that's all."

She looked at him with that innocent '_Honest, Chuck'_ look that once let her manipulate him, but no more.

"Well, it's coming and Art was very specific that it was ONE foot below the Coast Guard requirement for a crew. You did good, Shorts, although just _how_ good will remain unknown until I see her. Knowing the Pimp, he'd convert an ocean tug and call it a yacht."

Sarah leaned over and whispered "Just as long as it has a flying bridge, my lover, I won't care," and Chuck blushed hotly but then ran the palm of his hand slowly up the inside of her thigh making little circles with his fingertips and rested it there knowing no one would suspect and loving her immediate response of clasping it between her thighs and squeezing it.

Faith and Carina wanted to take the 'newbies' out to the Two Georges and have a welcoming party. Ellie started to beg off when Carina popped up and announced that 'Chuck's sister is the designated sober person for the evening and will judge all contests and drive'. She hadn't forgotten Ellie's problem with alcohol and wanted to include her with the team because she was Chuck's sister but their friend as well. She knew more about the program than the newbies did and besides, she wanted her opinion about the newest Team Talley members.

Chuck winked at Carina in thanks. He really wanted some 'alone time' with his wife for more than the obvious reasons.

* * *

Once Amelia had cleared the table and the crew went to change clothes for the evening in Boynton Beach, Chuck took Sarah by the hand and dragged her up the back stairs to their private verandah saying he wanted to 'talk'. Sarah had other ideas and pulled a sheet off the hidden Bose CD player and punched a button. The sounds of the Tango filled the air and soon Chuck filled her as well.

They'd played the Bolero and gone to their bed and Sarah was enjoying the afterglow of satisfying sex when her husband whispered 'you're going off the grid the same day Ellie flies back to Baltimore'.

"What?" She leaned over him, balanced on one elbow. She leaned down and caught his lips in a hungry kiss and then draped herself across him, unconsciously running her fingers along his scars.

"I've got our legends down and I've had a place in Belize for the past 18 months. It's a way station, nothing more, but it's your refuge until I can join you. I told Graham about the baby and suggested he retire because you were clamoring to 'get out of the life' and his presence might calm you. Pure deception. I reaffirmed my commitment to 'unfinished tasks' and I know he bought it. But Sarah, if we do this, it's permanent. There's no coming back. All this…will be sold and divided up among the stockholders and our estates. Chuck and Sarah Talley will be dead."

She sighed and lay her head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat, memorizing it and filing it away under 'Chuck'. "I suppose that's how it'll have to be then, husband. How long…how long do you think it'll be before you can break free and join us?"

"Us? It'll still be just 'you' and your passenger, sweetheart. But it might be a few months. I have to make it look like it was either an accident or perhaps 'despondent suicide' but it has to be that way. No breadcrumbs to lead them to us. No communication with anyone except Morgan through several cut-outs. He's our financial backer in this. I have a ton of money squirreled away but who knows, we might want to buy an island or something so we have to keep access to the money. Morgan's cool with it."

"What about Ellie and Carina…surely you don't mean…" He cut her off with a soft "Shhh" and pressed a kiss in her hair before continuing.

"That's exactly what it means. Maybe sometime in the future, in a few years when the 'intersect' is more commonplace in the intel business we'll be able to get back in touch but for now, no contact."

She suspected he was doing such draconian measures to ensure their safety but also to impress on her just how serious the process and he were. She couldn't let him cut himself off from his only remaining blood kin and said as much.

"It has to be this way. They'll kill us all if they find us. We'll be traitors to their damned god the Greater Good and you know how that works out. People like us don't 'retire', that's what you've always told me and I believe it."

"Please Chuck, can't we have this month together? No missions, just family and friends around us? It's as close to 'normal' as we'll ever have, my love, and I don't want…"

"You told me you wanted out, that you couldn't do this anymore, that the baby changed the equation. You were right then but wrong now. It has to be this way, Sarah. You know it and I know it. If you weren't pregnant you'd never have dreamed about cutting loose and going under but you are and you've made decisions that I agree with. The time frame sucks but you can do it but I can't. Just not right now."

"But Chuck, Ellie's leaving the day after tomorrow! It's too soon for us to be apart. I want to be with you now more than ever. Please, just a few weeks to be together before I leave."

"If you stay past Ellie's departure date, you'll have to be the consummate actor and make my life miserable. You have to convince them that you're angry with me for some reason. That means public arguments. Violent arguments. You have to throw the baby in my face, tell me I don't love you enough to leave the 'sweet life'. Can you do that? Become hateful and resentful? Pick fights? Convince the others it's over between us for whatever reasons they can figure out?"

"No. I couldn't do that to you. Besides, I told Carina about my ultimatum and Ellie knows, too. No, as much as I hate it, I'll leave with Ellie. But how do I explain it to her?"

"You don't. Here's the plan…"

She lay there unable to sleep long after he fell asleep. Sarah was not a crier but that night she cried herself to sleep in the last place she'd ever have expected - in her husband's arms.

* * *

The next day was spent in familiarizing the new members with Charah House, the defenses, the grounds and the protocols. Carina had noticed a tension between Chuck and Sarah and cursed her foster sister for being so weak and demanding. She'd seen Chuck rubbing absently at his chest more times than she'd cared to and decided to bring matters to a head.

Chuck took his 'endurance' swims usually in the early or late evenings but Carina asked him to do it before dinner. She'd pace him along the beach and act as his spotter, something she'd become accustomed to.

As they walked down to the beach together, Chuck was in his suit with his flippers draped over one shoulder and Carina was wearing shorts and a bikini top. The evening was still warm.

"Chuck, what's going on? I don't want you swimming tonight. I just dragged you out here to talk away from prying ears. You're rubbing at your chest a lot lately, a sure sign of some 'inner tension'. Or is it a build up of pressure? You'd tell me, wouldn't you? You know what the docs said about the damage. C'mon, Chuck, talk to me, please?"

"Shorts, you worry too much. Everything is fine, really. Quit worrying. You'll get wrinkles." He looked away, hiding a smile. He couldn't have planned it better.

"Don't you dare turn this around to me. It's you I'm worried about. I can't help it if I worry about you. You're more than a friend and you damned well know it. Now, tell me what's got you down, partner. I listen well. And I care about you and always will."

He sighed as if the weight of the world was on him. She waited, knowing he was close to opening up for the first time since Sarah had dropped her demand on him. She still wondered what had prompted his question to her about 'what if' and Mexico.

"Babe, it's just the…it's hard to talk about it without seeming disloyal to Sarah, like I'm going behind her back. OK, OK, I know that look. She's pulling away. She's going to split and there's nothing I can do to stop her. She's had a plan since the beginning, a contingency, and I guess now she's on the verge of implementing it." He put a note of desperation and despondency into his voice. He saw her eyes narrow and he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Chuck, I'm sure you're exaggerating. She _loves_ you, surely you know that by now?" _'Wait, could this all have been for the job? Is she going to split, go away for a while, get rid of an ' inconvenient' baby and then come back on the job with some song and dance about 'losing it'? Surely…'_ She frowned and remembered how Chuck's first wife, also a CIA agent, had married him for the job.

Impulsively for her, she hugged him and whispered, "Chuck, it's just hormones or something. She'd never do it, not in a million years. You're worrying about nothing, sweetie, and worry is not good for your ticker."

He couldn't help it. Her sincerity and his duplicity pulled 'Burbank Chuck' from deep down inside where he'd hidden him and he started to cry. He cried because he torn between his love for his wife and his 'love' for his team and friends. He knew it was a sure sign of the pressure he was under and that Carina would either confront Sarah or see it as a way to get between them.

"Sorry, sorry, Carina, it's just so damned…" he whispered brokenly in her ear.

"Shhh. It's OK, Chuck. It'll stay our secret. Just promise me that if your chest hurts you'll tell me before it's too late…maybe get Ellie to check it out before she leaves? I'd feel better if I knew someone trustworthy looked at you."

"No, I can't. She's got enough to worry about and I want this kept between us, honey, nothing gets back to Sarah, understand?"

"OK, but promise me you'll tell me the instant you start feeling overwhelmed. The very instant the pressure hits. Please? I'll keep this entire conversation between us but only if I have your promise?"

* * *

Their embrace did not go unnoticed. Amanda Blaine was bored and fiddling with the telescope on the verandah and soon spotted the embracing couple on the beach some hundred yards away. She leaped to a wrong conclusion but stopped herself.

_'There's trouble here but she's his partner and it's not what it seems. Counseling, consoling and commiserating is what good partners do. Still, why wasn't he seeking this from his wife? Unless his wife was the problem? A senior agent, pregnant and hormonal…oh, poor Chuck.'_

Blaine turned the telescope away from the couple and searched the horizon for anything that might divert her mind from her discovery. They seemed to her to be the 'perfect couple' on the surface but now she wondered. She'd keep an eye on the situation and her mouth shut. She had too much respect for Talley to spread anything remotely like gossip.

* * *

Sarah sat in the living room watching Amanda Blaine watching her husband and suppressed a laugh. Chuck was so devious and she wondered to herself just how often she'd fallen victim to his devious machinations. She didn't care. He was hers and she was his, no matter what things looked like on the surface. She unconsciously rubbed her belly as if to comfort the life growing within her. '_It's nothing to worry about, little one, just your daddy doing his damnedest to distract and deceive Auntie Carina.'_

Sarah planned on augmenting Chuck's 'grief' with some steps of her own. She went to their suite, took their wedding and other precious photos out of their frames and put them in her suitcase. She also found some photographs of less importance but no less precious times and set them aside – for burning. She'd give the team something to wonder about while saving those most precious photos for their future.


	35. The Ultimate Betrayal Unfolds

GreenEyedGirl30

_**A/N: Evilredknight is singularly responsible for the sudden shift in the angsty direction this Charah tome is taking…or maybe we just agreed that a happy ending was BORINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG! **_

_**Or maybe I'm just messing with his mind. He did seem…unfocused and it was late at night and he is a notorious…well, that's his problem and now it's yours.**_

* * *

Departure Day  
Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Ellie wondered again why Sarah had been so distant with Chuck and Carina. It was just so not like her. Sometimes Ellie swore she had a 'bubble' around her that no one but Chuck could enter but today the bubble seemed to extend even to her brother.

Curious and dreading it all the same, she pulled her brother out onto the verandah for a private moment and a hug. Safe in his arms she whispered her question.

"Chuck, are you and Sarah having problems? She seems very distracted and tense. I catch her looking at you and then looking to Carina and…_Oh, my God, Chuck!"_

She pushed herself away from him and fixed him with her steely-eyed stare. "Chuck, tell me you didn't cheat on Sarah with Carina?"

"What? Ellie, are you crazy? I would never cheat on Sarah. And especially not with Shorts. Hell, she's become like a sister to me since Mexico. No, absolutely not…Did Sarah tell you I was cheating? Is that why you two are having all these private moments?"

"No, Sarah never said anything. I just catch her looking at you and Carina and she looks so sad, Chuck."

"I'll have to ask her about that. Maybe tomorrow when the boat comes. It's the perfect time since it'll just be the two of us. You really don't think she thinks I'm cheating on her, do you? My God, she's pregnant with my baby and _you_ think I'm cheating on her?"

"I don't think you're cheating, at least I hope not. It's just that she's very tense and upset and hormonal. Be careful of her feelings, little brother. She'll adjust and in a few weeks she'll be just the Sarah we both know and love."

Chuck walked back into the living room and signaled Sarah to meet him in the kitchen.

"What's up, Chuck? We have to leave in a sec –"

He pulled her into a hug and smothered her with a passionate kiss, knowing it would have to do for months.

"I would never cheat on you, Sarah, never! Certainly not with Carina. Ellie says…"

She laughed and hugged him tightly and said into his chest, "I see the seed I planted has taken root. Good."

"Minx!"

"You're not the only devious one in this marriage, Chuck. You're just a lot more subtle than me. Now, kiss me goodbye for a while, my lover. We're going to miss her plane if I don't scoot."

* * *

Chuck watched Sarah's Porsche pull out of the driveway for the last time. He missed her already.

He walked back into the house and poured himself a cup of coffee and went about his daily routine, complicated by the 3 new team members who seemed to be a loose ends and not totally comfortable as yet with their new base of operations.

Faith had just come in with her 'medic' and he beckoned her over to him. "Let me see how the head's doing. You're keeping it clean and keeping the salve on it, right?" He gently parted her hair and looked at the new growth.

She grinned and then made a face. "Yes, Pops, I'm taking care of it. He makes me do this silly…"

"It's not silly, Faith. He knows what he's doing. So, personal question. Think he'd make a good partner for you?" He already knew the answer but enjoyed putting her on the spot, especially after her 'Pops' comment.

"You know he will, Chuck. So, make it official?"

"If that's what you both want. Why be roommates and not partners too?" He laughed at her blush and then hugged her and sent her on her way.

He needed to kill a little more time. Amanda Blaine was sunning herself out near the pool and he wanted to talk with her anyways so he put on his sunglasses and sat down beside her.

"Adjusting to life in the tenements, Amanda?" He startled her out of a doze. He hadn't realized she'd been sleeping. She was wearing aviator glasses against the glare.

"Huh? What? Oh, Agent Talley! What?"

"I asked if you were adjusting to life in the tenements but I guess snoozing out beside the pool answered my question. Use sunscreen Mandy or you'll look like a lobster. Blondes don't tan well. Just look at Sarah."

"I do. I guess I'm fitting in. Do you think I'm fitting in?"

"Yep. You'll do fine. Just don't pay attention to Carina's gossip or fall for Faith's practical jokes and you'll do fine. So, any second thoughts?"

"No. I think this is where I belong. Mission, purpose, good team, good leaders. What more could I ask for?"

"Yeah, they are a good bunch. We'll need a few simple ops under our belts to make sure the bumps and glitches are ironed out but I think our new taskings will be interesting and important. Go back to sleep. Sorry I bugged ya. Just don't stay out too long until you adjust. Florida sun is a killer. Just ask Sarah when she comes back from the airport."

* * *

West Palm Beach Airport

Sarah had parked in short-term parking and left her keys under the mat. Ellie's plane to Washington had been delayed and Sarah had almost missed her flight to Miami. It had been close. She'd put her suitcase in the Porsche the previous night and had to sprint to the parking area to get it and make her flight. She was glad she hadn't waited until she was 7 months pregnant. She'd never have made it.

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

He saw Carina going up to her room for something and hoped Sarah remembered to leave the suite door open. He looked at his watch and then pulled out his phone and walked to the edge of the verandah and speed dialed his wife's cell.

Her cell rang and rang and rang without going to voicemail. For just a second he was afraid something had happened until he remembered that they'd agreed to have the phone ring and not transfer to voicemail.

"Hello, Chuck, it's Carina. I heard Sarah's phone ringing. She forgot her phone…oh, shit! Chuck, please come up to your suite. There's something…just come up, Chuck. My God!"

* * *

Miami International Airport

She boarded her flight in Miami for Denver using the name Millie Stone after going into the restroom and quickly dumping her 'Tally' ID's into the trash after cutting them up with the only knife she'd brought. She sighed and threw it into the trash receptacle after turning everything 'Talley' in confetti. She slammed a mental door on those chapters of her agent life. Time to move on.

She checked her laptop and confirmed her reservations at the Denver Airport Marriott under her travel name, Millie Stone. She had several other ID's but they weren't to be used yet. Talley had added a year to her age and changed her marital status to 'single' for Stone.

She leaned back in her seat and wondered how things were going in Lantana. She wondered again just how she was going to handle being alone again on the ultimate deep cover operation of her life after being part of Team Intersect and Team Talley for so long.

She had confidence in her plan but life was a baseball game full of wild pitches and curve balls and she was playing in the big leagues now. She decided that she and the little one needed a nap to help calm and center her. She was asleep in a few minutes and didn't dream.

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Chuck ran up the stairs trying not to grin. If Carina was this shook up by what Sarah had left then it must really have been a doozie. He schooled his features and tried to adopt a panicked air and his 'inner Chuck' burst out unbidden.

'_What if she was serious, man? What if she really wanted out, away from anything that reminded her of the 'life'? What if…what if she doesn't follow the plan and just does what she does best – adapt to the change and go with it? What if…"_

"_Shut the fuck up! Get back down with the rest of the insecurities. It's part of the plan, that's all it is! Leave me alone."_

His subconscious knew him better and used his doubts to put alarm, concern and fear into his features. Selling this would be hard enough without a convincingly 'crushed Chuck'.

Carina met him at the door to their suite and stopped him in his tracks with "She's gone, Chuck. She's gone off the grid and the message she left was unmistakable…I'm so sorry…"

He brushed past her and gasped. Every one of their photographs, including their wedding portraits, had been burned in the fire place, their frames smashed and then cast haphazardly around the room. There was a sheet of notepaper on the unmade bed and lying in the middle of it were her engagement and wedding rings.

He held the rings in his hand and shuddered as a tear ran down his cheek. This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The note was short and to the point.

_Chuck:_

_Please don't try to find me. I'm off the grid and I don't plan on coming back or contacting you. It was always supposed to be this way and this was the plan since Burbank. I just never planned on falling in love with you or having a child with you. I'm sorry. I really did love you._

_Sarah Walker_

His mind flashed back to Lynn's notes in their old computer. This had been Graham's plan all along. No wonder she'd been so adamant that they go off the grid and hadn't balked at the planned separation. And her signature: Sarah _Walker_. Now he knew why she didn't want to get married and why she'd resisted every step of the way.

He never felt the trank dart hit his back. He was too intent on putting the muzzle of his .45 into his mouth and pulling the trigger.

* * *

Two hours later

Faith and Carina sat in the living room of Charah House waiting for the CIA connection to initiate the video conference with Arthur Graham. The newbies had been sent on errands but Faith insisted on sitting in on the conference.

"He's my friend and boss, Carina. Don't cut me out. He'll need us both to see him through this. Damn her! I can't believe this. After all they've been through together…I wonder if she's even really pregnant?"

That thought hadn't occurred to Carina. Just how far would Walker go to succeed in her mission? She left the question unanswered and turned her attention to the calm visage of Arthur Graham.

"OK, agents, what's the problem? Where are the Talleys?"

"Chuck's upstairs in bed. I tranked him. He was going to eat his gun. Walker left him in a particularly spectacular and brutal way. I'd say it's all part of your master plan, _Director._" The way she said 'director' made Graham sit up and take notice.

"What do you mean she 'left him'? Talley'd mentioned that she was pregnant and wanted out but that he was staying the course. Surely she hasn't dumped him because she's pregnant? I've gotten the OK to put her on the long-term inactive list until the baby's old enough to…"

"Oh, please, Uncle Art. This is me you're talking to. She made it quite clear in her 'goodbye' letter that this had been the plan, YOUR PLAN, since Burbank. Why? Why would you do such a shitty thing to him? He's done so much…" She started crying. She hated it but she hated Arthur Graham much more at that very moment.

"Um, Director, Carina's very upset. Uh, Walker burned their wedding photographs and left her rings with a really shitty note saying she was going off the grid and wouldn't be contacting him again – ever – and not to come looking for her. She said it had been the plan to do it since Burbank. Agent Talley just…Carina tranked him. He was going to take his own life. She stopped it."

Arthur Graham looked shocked and suddenly very old. This had been the plan back when Lynn was his wife but Walker was always going to go the distance. What in the hell happened that made her leave? Talley's going to need counseling and constant companionship. He knew Chuck and he knew the suicide attempt was no ploy.

"Agents, one of you will be with Talley 24/7. I'll arrange for counseling and until further notice, he's forbidden to go armed. If he goes out in public, both of you will accompany him. You've got another female agent, uh, Blaine. Split the duty between the 3 of you. He is never, I repeat, never to be alone until further notice. Understand something, Carina, this was _**not**_ some insidious plan to separate them."

He disconnected and then buzzed for his aide. "I'm going to Miami. Arrange for the plane. I'll be…two days, no more."

'_Jenny, what's going on in that head of yours this time?'_

* * *

Denver Airport  
Airport Marriott Hotel

She checked into her room and then stopped by the gift shop and purchased an overpriced hair coloring solution and went up to her room. She checked her schedules and pulled her info pack for her final travel ID. Satisfied with her understanding of the legend and documents, she went in to the bathroom to become someone else.

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Four women sat around the kitchen table drinking coffee. Amelia had been told that the Talleys had argued and that 'Mrs. Talley' had left for parts unknown. Her reaction was not what any of them expected. Instead of making excuses about her behavior or defending her actions, the little elderly woman was condemning and bitter.

"I cannot believe she left him! They were perfect together! What is wrong with her? She has a loving man, fine friends, a palace of a house, and at last she has what she wanted most in life for them, a baby, and it is all due to the _Jefe._ How could she _abandon_ such a man?"

"Amelia, we don't know. She was having problems with hormones and we can only hope that when things level out…" Faith started to say when Carina cut her off viciously.

"Oh, Faith, that's just so much bullshit. You read the note. You know what it meant. I know more than any of you about what happened out West and it's not hormones. It's worse. It's _professionalism._" The way she said _professionalism_ made it sound like some filthy perversion.

"Well, someone better go check on him. You heard the Director's orders. He's never to be alone at any time. The tranq will wear off in the next hour or so and then it's going to get very interesting."

"I know him best so I'll be best able to bear the brunt of his mood. You two decide what we're going to tell the public. They're a very well-known couple locally and her absence will prompt gossip and that's something we don't need. Amanda, what's the mood with the two guys? Are they in or are we going to have to make personnel adjustments? For that matter, are _you_ in?"

"I'm in. I won't leave him or the team. I'm where I was destined to be. I'm in. As for the guys, let me talk with them. It's not really a deal-breaker with them. They've seen Agent Talley at his best and they signed on. This is just a bump in the road and we'll keep them at arms' length from the emotional crap. Agreed?"

As Carina rose to go upstairs Amelia grabbed her hand. "You be careful with him, _hija._ I know how you feel. Do not let it interfere with how you handle him. He's just a man now."

"I know, Amelia, I know. He's always been 'just a man' to me but I know what you mean to say. I'll be careful."

Carina knocked at the door of the Talley's bedroom and then eased in. The draperies were closed against the heat of the late afternoon sun but she could make out the outline of Chuck sitting on the edge of the bed. She didn't know how long he'd been awake but she kicked herself for not being here when he woke up.

"It's OK, Shorts. I'm not going to do anything dramatic like paint the ceiling with my brain. That was stupid and immature and a purely emotional reaction and I'm sorry if I frightened you. I owe you one more, honey. That's another time you saved my life. Listen, things are going to be different for a while. I have to make adjustments but I'm centered mentally. You don't have to worry."

She walked over and sat beside him, not touching him but close enough that if he leaned over a few centimeters he'd feel her and know she was there in more ways than one.

Nothing shocked her more than when he took her hand in his and whispered to himself, "We should have stayed in Mexico. We could have made it work. We could have been happy."

She didn't respond since she wasn't sure he knew that he'd verbalized what he'd been thinking. Her heart gave a staccato beat and then leveled off still at a higher rate than when she sat down.

"Chuck, Graham's flying down to speak with you. It wasn't the plan. Sarah was never supposed to leave. Lynn was expected to divorce you but then she fell for you and married you and then she got pregnant. The rest you know. There are parallels here that are freaky but Graham swears that she was never instructed to leave you and Chuck, I believe him."

"Doesn't matter. What's done is done. She got what she wanted, felt she'd met her objectives and then did what any spy does when the mission's complete. She left. Maybe she'll contact Art for another assignment and she'll explain her actions. I doubt it though. Hell, I don't know what to think."

"Art's ordered some stringent protocols, Chuck. One: no weapons. Two: one of us has to be with you at all times, no matter where you go or what you do. Three: If you go out of the house, two of us must be with you. There are no others but no exceptions, either. That means you better be able to handle a harem, boss man, because you're going to have the company of one of three beautiful and sexy spies at all times – including bed time." She tried to lighten the mood and take some of the sting out of the new rules.

"Fine. Just don't expect to tango, Shorts. Not for a while. Maybe not ever."

"Let's go feed you, Chuck. Amelia's really upset and I think seeing you alive and reasonably sane and sober will make her feel better. Uh, Faith and Amanda are OK with it, by the way. Amanda's talking to the guys and explaining what went down and why the Director's coming. Crap! I forgot to tell Amelia about dinner. C'mon, Chuck. Kitchen. Now."

* * *

Director Graham arrived by limo and immediately sequestered himself with Chuck in the team's office. He spent an hour going over things, issues and concerns and when the two emerged, their mood was 'thoughtful and brooding'.

"Chuck, it was all her own doing. If she'd waited just one or two more hours, I'd have called with the 18-month furlough like we discussed. I'm sorry, son. I have no idea what was going through her mind."

"Well, don't keep us on the damned sidelines, Director. I – I mean we – need missions to establish cohesiveness. I've got a great team of operators and there's no reason to let my personal problem get in the way of operations. Task us. We won't let you down."

"Well, we'll see. For the next couple of days though, my protocols are law for Team Talley. I'll talk with Carina and Ward and see if they feel 'comfortable' with things before tasking. Live with it, Talley. It's how it's going to be."

"Fine. I have to live with it but not like it. We'll set up the Team just like New Orleans except I'll be with Carina and not Ward. Task us, Art. I need the distraction."

"I said we'll see and we will. Now get your head on straight and no more of this suicide crap. You've been through the wringer and just when things seem to be coming together she pulls this crap. I'm sorry. I never should have allowed her to reconnect."

"Yeah, Art. I think Shorts and I should have stayed under the radar in Mexico. None of this crap would have happened and we'd be…"

"Talley, she was always going to bring you back to active service. It was her job."

"Just like it was Walker's to build me up to this point and then slip away? Was that the plan?"

"God damn it, Bartowski…she was in it for the long haul. You know that. Let's not speak of it again. Subject is closed. Let's eat. And later, I want to talk seriously with you about my retirement. This thing has really brought home some unpleasant realities. Think I could get a nice quiet place out here?"

"Well, there's always the apartment above the carriage house. I'd let you have it really cheap, too. Maybe in exchange for being…oh, I don't know…caretaker?"

"That might have possibilities. I'll think on it. Now, let's go and assure your team that you're not nuts and headed for a bunker. I want to see what delicacies Amelia has whipped up."

Graham passed on Talley's offer of the carriage house apartment saying that he had business in Miami. Dinner conversation had been deliberately light and Graham had regaled the new team members with tales of his early days in the Agency as well as some of the less sensitive adventures of Talley and his crew.

Carina had kept her eye on Chuck and every time he seemed to zone out she engaged him in conversation and brought him back to Earth. He was grateful for her concern but had been thinking about future missions. How would the team perform without Sarah? Then it hit him. New Orleans. The team had performed incredibly well and his wife hadn't been there at all, just a disembodied voice on the phone.

That night the three women talked about who was going to 'bed the boss' and Carina cut through any misconceptions.

"No one is going to _bed the boss._ He's my partner now and he's my responsibility. His wife just destroyed him and you know he needs a familiar face in his life and I'm it. We've been down this road before and I know how to handle him in bed. Wait! That didn't come out right at all. I mean I know how he sleeps and what he needs and…forget it. I'm his partner. End of discussion."

Graham left and the team cleaned up the dinner debris not wanting to leave Amelia a mess to deal with. Chuck announced he was going to shower and then go to bed and asked Faith to do the lock-down honors. Carina followed him up the stairs and into his master bedroom.

"Carina, I know the drill. I'm going to take a shower. If you want to keep me company," his eyes narrowed and then he smiled, "you can sit on the pot and talk to me. As for bed, wear clothes and we'll do fine. I'm not suicidal, Carina, not any more. I won't give the her the satisfaction."

Carina breathed a sigh of relief. Another crisis behind them and he seemed to be 'back in the game'. She smirked and went to her own room for sleep wear and then she'd see what the night held. It had been ages since she'd slept in his arms but she'd settle for a 'midnight migration' and let whatever happened happen. She'd deal with it in the morning. This was no different than sleeping with him in New Orleans.

* * *

At 6am Mountain Time, Debbie Dingle, 28, caught a cab for the main terminal and picked up her pre-paid ticket for Mexico City. She was joining a Singles Tour of Central Mexico and the Yucatan and merged with the group, one more brunette single girl on the prowl for a boyfriend or husband.

She spent the flight sitting between two 30-year old accountants from Denver who spent the flight discussing the new tax rulings. She ignored them and dozed and if she dreamed, she didn't remember them.


	36. Beginning of the End

GreenEyedGirl31

_**A/N: I can't believe how many people actually thought she'd betrayed him. Shame on all you doubters.**_

_**APR**_

* * *

Departure Day +2  
Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Carina woke first and reveled in the feeling of being encased in Chuck's arms with his morning arousal pressing against her. She knew it was pure biology and that her current situation was nothing more than the habits of sleep but still she enjoyed it. She slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom to shower and dress. There was no point in prolonging the agony or causing him any more stress.

Chuck was dressed when she came out. He smiled at her shyly and then took his turn. She guessed he'd been awake before she was and wanted to avoid any words. She went to her room and redressed in fresh clothes since she'd simply put on what she'd worn to bed when she finished showering. They'd have to talk about dumping Sarah's extensive wardrobe and moving her's into the suite but not today or even tomorrow.

Chuck had just emerged from the bathroom and walked out onto the covered verandah when his cell rang. He noted the caller ID as 'Unknown' and answered as a civilian.

"Hello." He waited.

"Hello." Again. Impatience in his voice.

"I'm sorry. I know it's not the plan but I just had to hear your voice one last time before…"

"Before what, Agent Walker? Before you disappeared forever from my life?" His tone was strident and he couldn't help feeling angry, betrayed and resentful. He was just a man after all.

"Chuck, what's wrong? I know I shouldn't have called. I just couldn't head off to the 'way station' and not know you were OK and I needed to hear your voice before then. I almost called you from Miami and again from Denver but I knuckled down and followed the plan. Please don't be angry, Chuck. I know we agreed…"

"The plan? The plan! It wasn't the plan to burn our wedding portraits! It wasn't the plan to dump your rings and leave that shitty damned note! It wasn't the plan for me to lose you to your goddamned job!"

"Chuck, baby! Oh, I never should have left that note. I'm so sorry. You didn't think…Oh, yes, you did! All your doubts and fears rose up to bite me in the ass. I'm so sorry. Please, I never meant what I said in the letter. I just wanted to add to your scenario! Our wedding pictures are safely in the suitcase and those are rings we used from before when we were the Talleys for the job. Ours are back on my finger where they'll never leave. Oh, baby…"

She started to cry and couldn't speak. She'd shattered him just like the others and he'd been alone with his fears.

"Sarah, I'm sorry. I overreacted. But it was so like…you shouldn't have done it without telling me. You have no idea how…I'm sorry. I'll see you as soon as I can. I love you both."

"We love you too, baby. I'm so sorry…"

"Enough. This is too damned hard. Don't call me again. I…I won't take your call. What's done is done. You did what you thought was right. I…I'll always love you, Sarah, always."

"I'll see you soon. Be careful, my love. We'll be waiting for you." She hung up.

* * *

Carina went in search of her partner, suddenly concerned for his absence. She'd broken protocols that she knew were necessary. After all, how long would it take for him to find another weapon hidden in places they'd never thought to look?

She heard his broken voice out on their covered verandah and heard the last snatches of a conversation. _"…call me again. I…I won't take your call. What's done is done. You did what you thought was right. I…I'll always love you, Sarah, always."_

Her voice was loud and carried a note of disgust. "She called you, didn't she? That bitch! Let me guess…she tried to justify her actions, used the job to make it right in her own mind, right? Chuck, you were right. Don't take another call from her. She just wants to wring the last of you out of her system. We'll get you a new cell number and I'll put NSA on the hunt for her."

"No. I've got to learn to live without her. All I have left is the damned job. It's time for some changes. Get the team to empty out the suite of anything that's hers. Anything! Give to charity, burn it on the beach, I don't care. Just get it done, Shorts. Move your stuff into the room, partner. It's ridiculous for you to have your stuff…"

She flew across the space between them and pulled him into a fiercely protective hug.

"Chuck, just calm down. Maybe you should call forward your cell to mine for a few days. You have enough stress as it is. If she calls back, I'll put her in her place. Don't put yourself through this. We need to get the team back on-line and get back in the game. You said so yourself. Now, go eat something while I get the team busy on boxing up her stuff."

He walked down into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He felt…alive again, whole again. Now he was back on track and would begin his extraction. It might take a month or two, maybe even more, but he now had a purpose other than just living through another day.

* * *

Carina asked Amelia about getting some boxes and explained why. She immediately volunteered to handle the 'removal' and disposal. Her church had a van that would pick up the clothing and distribute it to the needy. She insisted, saying it would 'help the _jefe'_. She said it would be done before noon and nothing would remain of the traitorous _putana._

Graham called Carina to get a status on the situation. When he heard that Walker had called Chuck and Chuck's response he knew that everything would be OK.

"Agent, keep an eye on him but I think the worst is over. I have some things to talk to him about so I'll be dropping by before I fly back to DC. Have the team together and I'll brief them on the new mission. It's probably going to end up international so make sure all the documents are in order for the team members. I assume you've 'replaced' Walker?"

"If you mean I'm with him at night, yes, but that's all I plan on doing, Director, is being in the same bed with him. Even I know that he needs time to adjust, time to heal. He keeps mentioning Mexico and how we just should have gone off the grid. I don't know whether it's sour grapes or genuine regret but I'm not taking advantage of his grief. Whatever happens will be up to him. I assume that's what you wanted to hear, right?"

"Exactly right. I'll see you later this afternoon and I'll need transportation to West Palm Beach airport this evening. I know you hate boats, Carina, but his is being delivered to the dock at the Two Georges as we speak. Get him to spend some time on it. It doesn't have to move and make sure the team is involved."

His abrupt hang up surprised her as did the potential of an international assignment. The agent in her was concerned but the woman was thrilled.

'_Getting him out of this damned shrine to Sarah Walker will do a world of good for his attitude and peace of mind. Maybe I'll ask Art about basing us someplace where he doesn't have her treachery rubbed in his face at every turn?'_

* * *

While Talley met with the Director, Carina called a mini-meeting of the team and briefed them on the situation leaving nothing out. Eric was psyched at the prospect of an international assignment while his partner, Amanda, just sat there as always, taking it all in, keeping her own counsel.

Ron smiled in his quiet way at Faith and mouthed 'Oh, yeah!' and then fixed his attention on the team 2IC. He sensed there was more and he was right.

"OK, I don't know how many of you hate the ocean and boats and things that go up and down but get over it. I've got a huge cache of Dramamine in my bag so see me if you need some. Talley's replacement boat is being delivered today and so tomorrow or the next day we're going to go through it with a fine toothed comb. I don't want a single inch left unswept for bugs, explosives and anything else that wasn't original equipment or a listed enhancement."

"So are we going to our assignment via sea?" Amanda leapt to the obvious conclusion,

"We're not sure. Talley and the Director are finalizing some details and timeframes. I will tell you this…it's a lot warmer than New Orleans."

* * *

Belmopan Airport  
Belmopan, Belize

Debbie Dingle walked through the airport after clearing Customs. She only carried the one bag and didn't need to go through baggage claim. The flight from Mexico City had been crowded with tourists and vacationers on their way to the Gulf Coast and she'd been crushed between two obese women who prattled on about their plans.

She walked into the ladies room and systematically destroyed any paper trace of 'Debbie Dingle' just as she had her other covers on her trip.

She removed her brown contact lenses and flushed them and her shredded legend down the commode.

* * *

Serenity Rogers walked out of the terminal into the bright afternoon sun of Belize's capital city. She consulted her mental 'Chuck List' and caught a cab for Rios Cartage and Storage. She told the cabbie to wait for her and went in a presented her passport and Maine driver's license and requested help in loading the small crates into her cab.

She had the cab driver drop her at a car rental agency and again presented her documents and asked for a 6-month lease on a small truck or jeep, paying with her AMEX card. She gave her the address she'd memorized in San Pedro Town on Ambergris Caye.

The clerk gave her a funny look and Serenity explained that she was "getting over a nasty divorce. I figure 6 months in the sun spending all the bastard's money will make things right." The clerk gave her an understanding smile and then a map marked with the most direct route to the ferry station that would carry her to the Caye and wished her well.

She was not going to the ferry station first. She had a stop to make at the Bank of Scotland branch in Belize City first. According to her 'Chuck list' there was a safety deposit box containing some things she'd need. She also was to withdraw $20,000 in local currency from their joint account to cover her immediate needs until her husband, Bob, joined her after his return from his deployment in Afghanistan.

The first thing she did before leaving the rental agency parking lot was to place her wedding and engagement rings she'd taken off in Denver and hung on a fine gold chain around her neck back on the third finger of her left hand where they would remain until she died.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time she'd made the long drive to Belize City so she got a room at a tourist hotel for the night. She wanted to be fresh and rested before making the drive to Ambergris Caye and San Pedro Town. The concierge locked up the small crates for the night and promised to have someone load them in her jeep when she checked out.

Serenity mentally reviewed the 'Chuck List' before going to sleep to ensure she had her tasks properly prioritized. She knew that several remote actions had been automatically triggered by her husband within minutes of her leaving Charah House for the airport.

Satisfied, she finally allowed her mind to dwell on her last conversation with her husband. She tore apart all of her actions looking for deeper reasons and was finally satisfied that there were no hidden agenda in her actions. She'd honestly been trying to help not hurt her beloved Nerd.

Curling up and wishing the pillows were Chuck, she fell asleep and dreamed of their future.


	37. Weed whackers and Hackers

****

**__**

GreenEyedGirl32

**_Please: Read the A/N's at the end of the chapter. ALSO, a review or three would be nice. Nik reads them and most times they make her happy. APR_**

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL  
6:30am

Chuck was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the local excuse for a newspaper when Director Graham called. He knew it couldn't be good news since they'd been given a few days to adjust and reorganize the team around the absence of his wife. Carina was organizing the remainder of the team to go over the Talley 'scow' for bugs, surprises and traps.

She'd been very blunt. "Chuck, Amelia is here and we're gone. We'll be back shortly before dinner. You know the rules. Do not leave the house. Sleep if you can. Amelia goes with you if you leave the structure, even to swim. Graham's invoked stringent protocols and you know why."

She'd leaned over and kissed his cheek, letting her lips remain a bit longer than necessary for a friendly smooch and then left. He hadn't bothered to acknowledge anything she'd said since she was simply repeating what he'd already heard a zillion times. It was 'stay in the van, Chuck' all over again.

"Talley, secure."

"Chuck, it's Art. Are you alone?" Not the best indicator of a friendly contact. His senses went on full alert.

"Yeah. The team's going over the boat for anything not up to specs and I'm basically under house arrest. Amelia's here. What's on your mind, Director?"

"Chuck, the NSC and Combine have issued a sanction order on Sarah. The idiots think she's defected and since she has knowledge of the intersect, well, you get my drift. I've got you a 5-day delay. Make contact if you can and get her back. If she's in place again within the 5-day period then it's as if it never happened. Find my baby girl, son, and get her home and keep her there."

* * *

Graham hung up and Chuck stared at the phone in disbelief. A sanction order against his wife! After all she'd done and despite her record, the fat cats in their corner offices decided she had to die to protect something that was hardly in need of protection. Someone was not thinking. All they'd have to do was pull the team out of Florida and relocate them to someplace else with new identities. It happened all the time.

No. Someone wanted Sarah dead and probably him and his team along with her. He was pretty sure it wasn't Graham but he wasn't 100% certain. In the spy game, nothing was certain except death.

He ran up to his room, keyed in his new combination to his gun safe, pulled up the false bottom and took out one of several one-time cell phones.

"Hello?" He heard her hesitant voice answering the phone. He forgot the time difference. She sounded sleepy and he regretted waking her but put those feelings aside and spoke slowly and carefully.

"Baby, it's Mike. I'm sorry we argued. Your family is driving me crazy. Your Dad has threatened to disown you if you don't come home. He's blaming you for everything, including the competition."

_Translation: I'm under close surveillance. Graham warns of sanction if you don't come back. He thinks you're defecting and someone in power wants you dead_. If he had used Roger or David as his name it would have meant 'Run, there is danger!' 'Mike' meant just an update call.

"Michael, I understand how this puts you in the middle but you work for my Dad and it's his business. The competition has always been tough, he's just getting old and won't adapt to new times. We both know you run the business, just behind the scenes. I didn't want to leave but I needed time to think, to reassess. I don't need his money. We don't need his money. Quit your job, Mike, and join me. I miss you."

_Translation: You're in deep and he's up to something. The other agencies must be pressuring him to retire because of this. They want control of the intersect. Should I come back? I'm fine. We're going to be fine. I want you to follow your plan. I miss you._

"Come back? Whatever for? Nothing's changed. You're still determined to do it your own way and he won't budge. I'll – I'll talk to you later. I got things to do. I still love you, Beth. That won't change. Listen, I have to go."

_Translation: Stay put. I'm coming but have to make some changes to my schedule. I'll be in touch. I'm leaving soon and have preparations to make. I love you._

She rubbed the place she called the 'baby bump' even though there was little evidence of anything other than her taut abdomen. 'Daddy's coming, little one!' and she rolled over and fell back to sleep.

He was worried. He hadn't been prepared for Sarah's abrupt decision to go off the grid and he wasn't prepared to join her this soon. He had to make life-changing and life-ending decisions and they had to be right. There would be no opportunities for a 'do-over'.

* * *

Lantana Marina  
Two Georges Dock  
Boynton Beach, FL  
5:30pm

They were finally finished. The 63' yacht, and that's what it was, a yacht, was elegant and decadent. It was like a floating bordello. Art had outdone himself. Whoever the drug lord who'd owned it was, he'd been into every sybaritic pleasure known to man or woman. Carina couldn't wait to see the look on Chuck's face when he saw the ceiling of the master suite for the first time.

"Carina, there's a bidet in the master bath! And video cameras that record every stateroom. The owner was a total perv!" Faith was scandalized by ostentatious displays of sex. She didn't mind her partner's occasional PDA but really preferred it in private.

Art being Art, they'd found 3 tracking devices, 5 sets of bugs used by the DEA, 2 NSA GPS repeaters and a host of smaller 'sound units' that relayed their pick-ups to one of the NSA units for rebroadcast. They'd removed them all and ran a huge magnet over each one before rendering each one into inert pieces of metal and plastic with a sledgehammer.

She figured the DEA units were relics of a sting operation that brought the boat into government hands but knew that Art or someone else in 'government' had placed the trackers and repeaters. 'Trust but verify' seemed to be the order of the day where Team Talley was concerned.

* * *

Grimes Residence  
Boynton Beach, FL

Morgan was in his garage, fiddling with his weed trimmer. Since he and his wife became homeowners he'd become obsessed with having the best lawn on the block. His wife tolerated it for quite a few reasons: it kept him out of her hair, it kept him busy and happy and finally, she'd basked in the congratulatory comments when the local garden club had published the 'Top Ten Landscapes' and they'd been #2. She was a social climber of the most transparent kind.

Morgan put down his toy and greeted his life-long friend with a beer and a smile. "What's up, Chuck? Need to unload?" He knew about Sarah but Anna didn't. No sense offering her opportunities to 'console' Chuck with a 'pity fuck' like she'd offered in Burbank.

"I need to unload, yeah. All of it. Pull the file off this flash drive. Download 'Armageddon'. It's time, Morg. I can't hang around any more. Things are just too damned dangerous. You and Anna will be fine, Morgan. Just follow the steps we set up when you first got here. I'll contact you like I did in Mexico. Take care of yourself. Keep Anna in the dark. You can't trust her around this much money. I told you I'd make you rich and I always keep my promises."

Morgan nodded, saddened. He knew this might happen one day but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he'd actually be doing it. She'd never know about the money. He knew his wife better than Chuck gave him credit for. He knew about her affairs, her dalliances, her love, no, her lust, for money. She'd only married him for his potential earnings, not love. It didn't matter, though, because Morgan Grimes was in love and a man can overlook a lot when he's in love.

Morgan gave Chuck an awkward 'man hug' and then stepped back and looked at his best and probably only friend in the world. "Chuck, you know you can always count on me. No matter what. Just don't forget about 'us', Chuck and Morgan, Han and Chewie, OK?"

The drive back to Lantana normally only took 10 minutes but he'd taken the 'long' way and got caught by the drawbridge and spent 10 minutes waiting for the thing to cycle. It would be the last time he'd cross this bridge.

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

The team got back, hit the showers and then started peppering Amelia with dinner requests, pleas and out-right begging. She loved this part of her job the most.

Carina stormed back downstairs and buttonholed Amelia.

"Where's Chuck, Amelia? You were supposed to be watching him! He's gone!" She was totally pissed at the smaller woman.

"He went over to Morgan's to get something and he called and is at the drawbridge. He said '10 minutes'. He's the jefe and I do not tell him what to do."

'Well, I, the _puta del Diablo_, told you he wasn't supposed to be without one of us with him. He's not supposed to be alone. You know that!"

Chuck walked into the kitchen and caught the last part of the dressing-down.

"Carina, that's enough! Put a sock in it. I'm back. Took a whole hour to just talk to my friend, y'know, the one who doesn't judge? The one friend I have who has no agenda? I told her I'd be fine and I was and I am. Now tell me about the scow."

* * *

The conversation at dinner dealt with the opulent yacht that the Director had to replace the Sarah's Smile.

"What's the top end, Carina? Faster than the Smile was? Fuel capacity? C'mon, surely you went down my checklist?"

"Nope. Went down my checklist. Found and deactivated bugs and transponders and trackers. The floating palace is clean. You'll need to read the manual about the other stuff. The Master Stateroom has a frikkin' bidet in it, boss. A bidet! Talk about high class."

* * *

Belize City  
Belize

Sarah spent the day gathering her sundries for her time in Ambergris Caye. She'd taken care of everything on her 'Chuck list' and was trying to stay busy so she'd avoid thinking about her missing husband and the sanction order on her. When she did think about it, she felt remorseful for pressing the decision to go off the grid on Chuck with such a short timeframe.

She got the concierge to load the small crates in her jeep once more and then took off for Ambergris Caye and the 'way station' that Chuck had set up while he'd been an asset in Burbank.

She chuckled at the impression she'd gotten initially on meeting him. If she'd been told that she'd end up marrying her mark and having a child together she'd have had a stroke but here she was…married and pregnant. And happy.

She loved the drive up the coast to the ferry station. It helped her put things in perspective. She wondered if this had been Chuck's plan all along – to use the 2-hour drive to center him. It certainly helped her.

The first thing she noticed about San Pedro Town was that there were none of the high-rise tourist hotels. No building was higher than the closest palm tree – about 3 stories. The second thing she noted was the colors – no blah colors, all striking pastels and the entire place reeked of 'laid-back coolness'. No wonder he'd selected this place as his initial bolthole. Chuck would have felt immediately at home.

She stopped at a bar to ask directions to her new vacation home and was greeted like a lost relative. The motto of Ambergris Caye was apparently 'come in a stranger and leave a friend'. She spent more time in introductions here than in the past 5 years.

Finally accepting a non-alcoholic drink and the congratulations of all the patrons who pelted her with best wishes and suggestions for a baby name, she slipped off her sandals and relaxed. She had to explain why she was refusing the free offers of booze with 'I'm pregnant and waiting for my husband to join me'. No more talk of divorce. No need.

She glanced at the clock above the bar and made her way to the door. The streets were all sand and her jeep had no problems dodging the bikes and golf carts that made up the principal modes of transportation in San Pedro Town. It was charming, picturesque and would only be perfect when she her husband joined her.

She found her house near the end of Elizabeth Street. It was a small 2-story cement structure with verandahs and a tiled roof. It was painted a garish pink and green but seemed 'normal' in comparison to its companions.

A brick and cement wall surrounded the property with a 'moon' gate entry at the street and a vehicle entry port in the rear. He'd thought of everything. God, how she missed him.

Sarah parked the jeep in the back lot and locked the steel door. She used a crowbar she found in the tool shed to open the crates rather than unload the heavy crates she'd picked up at the storage warehouse.

She found two Mini-Uzi 9mm submachine guns, 1,000 rounds of ammunition and night vision goggles and sound suppressors in the first crate plus 2 9mm Beretta pistols. She couldn't contain her brief laugh. The pacifist Chuck of Burbank had morphed into the agent. She knew he'd done this before Sand Springs and was surprised to find two of everything.

'Was it redundancy or had he planned on bringing along a companion? Was it me or Carina he planned on running with?'

The second crate was a shocker. Money. A lot of money. And documents. And passport photographs suitable for substituting for originals on forged or stolen passports. There were several of him with various hair styles and beards (obviously photoshopped but not so a customs official would notice and then an envelope containing [gasp] passport-suitable photos of her!

Her breath hitched and her eyes watered. 'Yes! It **was** me he'd planned on running with'. There was a single sheet of notepaper with a note scrawled in Chuck's looping script.

_Sarah:_

_If you're alone when you read this it means I made a mistake somewhere along the way and won't be joining you. What ever happened, I'm sure it was my fault – as usual. Take what you need from this. Be safe and happy._

_CB_

It took quite a few trips to ferry all the stuff from the crates into the house but it was fairly cool and she wanted the exercise. His note had rattled her as had his selection of materials and weapons in the crates. He'd even packed several bottles of her shampoo and conditioner knowing she probably wouldn't have the time or money to buy any.

Inside the bottom of the last crate was a small fabric roll of tools. She laid it down on the butcher block island in the small kitchen and untied and rolled it out.

There was a complete set of knives exactly like she'd left behind at Charah House. A thigh holster was carefully folded into the roll along with a note.

_Sarah:_

_Thanks for everything. I think the thigh holster is hot!_

_C_

She laughed and then went to put away her things and make a shopping list. She'd need 'Belize' clothes. Her wardrobe was geared more for day-to-day Florida life. She was supposed to be on vacation here. She also needed to find a doctor to handle her maternity needs.

* * *

Grimes Residence  
Boynton Beach, FL

When Chuck had first hired Anna Wu he thought she was a felon with a conviction for hacking. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Her job was a cover for her long-term surveillance of one Charles Bartowski and his 'handler', Lynn. As soon as Lynn exhibited signs of emotional instability she would be 'retired' and it was planned that Anna would take her place in Chuck's life until another agent was detailed to handle him or he was eliminated.

Lynn's marriage to Bartowski came as an unpleasant surprise but the Agency had adapted. Then she was killed. Ann Wu had tried to get close to him after Lynn's funeral at the beach but knew the instant she'd hinted that she was available to console him in 'any way' that she'd made a mistake. Graham had told her to 'back off and maintain surveillance only' when Walker proved more able to worm her way into his confidences.

In order to maintain a close surveillance, she'd allowed Morgan Grimes to bed her and eventually they wed. When Bartowski was killed at the Museum, she expected to be reassigned, believing her mission blown by circumstances.

She was told to 'maintain her cover' pending resolution of some 'issues' and steeled herself for months of 'Morganness'. He was a decent lover, caring more for her pleasures than his own and that alone made things tolerable for her. When Bartowski 'resurrected' as 'Talley' and they'd moved to Florida, her mission was reactivated.

She hated playing the skank wife of Talley's only friend but she was dedicated to her profession and just sucked it up and continued on so when she'd been informed of the sanction on Sarah Walker Talley, she'd almost jumped for joy because it meant that she'd be the one to put a cap in her ass but then she disappeared and it wasn't until today that she had any idea of just how complex a web of lies and deceit the Talleys had spun.

Chuck Talley had met with her husband for an hour and immediately after he left, Morgan had loaded a flash drive into his laptop and downloaded instructions. He'd then sent emails, made a few phone calls and finally deleted all the information from the laptop and destroyed the flash drive.

She was a hacker although that was just a skill set she'd been trained in after the Farm. It took her more than two hours to reconstruct a portion of the data remaining on the laptop's hard drive. What she read shocked her but also impressed her. His planning was impressive as was his logic. His actions could never be traced back to a single point. She was about to become rich.

"Hello, baby girl. Haven't heard from you in quite a while. Report."

"Talley is planning on going off the grid as soon as certain conditions are met. He has no idea where his wife is but is concerned about the sanction being 'expanded' to include him and his team as well."

"Details, please. No such action has been contemplated. Perhaps later but not in the immediate future. Continue your report, agent."

Twenty minutes later she hung up the phone, smiling broadly. She was finally being put into play. After nearly five years of grunge work, she was going big time. Not only was she about to be rich but she was pretty sure she was also about to become a widow. She stomped down on her feelings of guilt and remorse. Spies did not fall in love. She did not love Morgan Grimes. She was sure of that fact, wasn't she?

* * *

A/N: This is it for a bit. Got a full schedule for a week or so. Enjoy it.

APR


	38. Avoiding Temptation and Destruction

GreenEyedGirl33

A/N: Hopefully it hasn't been too long since I posted to this. If it has been, sorry, dudes. APR

* * *

**Aboard the MV _Sprite  
_Two Georges Marina  
Boynton Beach, FL**

Chuck was shocked to the point of being speechless. Carina saw the look on his face and grinned. The Sprite was just a little bit longer than she'd told him. Twenty-seven feet longer, to be exact. The 90-foot cruising yacht had three levels above deck and two below, if you counted the small sound-proofed area that housed the engines and steering gear and the bilge spaces.

"Ca-Carina…she's beautiful. Weather deck, promenade and bridge and flying bridge…my God, Art's done himself proud. You won't get sick on this boat, Shorts, it's got stabilizers. Let's go aboard. I want to see what other understatements you've not told me about."

"Wait until you see the lounge, Chuck. It's couches and tables and…it's just like a floating hotel suite and it has a complete kitchen, and I mean _complete!_ And the stateroom and cabins are opulent and…it's like a floating palace, Chuck. We're going to spend all our time here, you watch! You can land a chopper on the foredeck and the living room/lounge opens up onto a lanai that doubles as an open air dining room"

He smiled at Carina's enthusiasm. He didn't blame her. If Sarah had been here, he'd have had her naked and screaming in the master stateroom within minutes. It was an incredible piece of marine engineering and opulent design.

"Remind me to call Art and thank him, Shorts. And thank you for nagging at him. She's 90 feet of decadent pleasure. Find me the logs and manuals and then disappear for a while. Catch some rays on the deck or go watch one of your soaps in the cruising lounge."

He leaned over and kissed her sweetly and gently on the lips, feeling uncomfortable but, as his wife had told him when they'd discussed it, it was necessary for his cover. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel anything

He saw the look on her face and muttered "Sorry, I just…aw, hell, honey, I just…" He didn't get to finish. She kissed him with hungry desperation and pushed him down on the queen-sized bed and straddled him, silencing his protest with a kiss.

"I know it's too soon, Chuck, but I love you and I always will. You've always been straight with me and so I'll be straight with you. We can have sex together without it being anything more than physical release for you but it'll always be more to me. Consider it stress relief, Chuck Talley. No strings attached, I promise."

"We'll...it's too soon. It's like when Lynn died and Sarah wanted…too soon. I'm sorry. I never should have kissed you." He pushed her off him and got up, unconsciously rubbing his chest and she saw it, of course, and knew he was right.

"I'm not sorry. You do that whenever you feel like it. As often as you feel like it. I'll keep ice in the little fridge under the night table, just like Mexico."

She laughed at his blush and went to find the logs and ship's manuals. She knew it was too soon but she was patient.

_**Earlier  
**__**Charah House  
**__**Lantana, FL**_

"_Chuck, we need to talk. You'll be all alone here with all these beautiful women and I'll be away from you for God knows how long and…"_

"_And what, Sarah? I'd never cheat on you, you know that, surely?" He was appalled that his pregnant wife would think he was capable of such a crappy act._

"_No, my love, I know that. I'm saying…well, oh, crap. You're going to have to sleep with one or more of them to shore up your false flag efforts. It's __**not**__ cheating, not in my eyes. It's using a skill to survive and get your sweet ass back into my arms where you belong." _

"_NO! Definitely not. It'll never come to that. How would it look? It would be so disrespectful…"_

_Her laughter filled their bedroom and really pissed Chuck off. He got up, still naked and sweaty, and stormed out of their room and across the hall to their 'private verandah' and walked to the railing, furious with her._

_She ran after him, realizing how badly she'd misjudged how he felt about…_

"_Chuck…THINK! Your wife dumped you and ran off to Timbuktu or someplace and God knows what possessed her. You won't owe her respect, although I love you for it. No, I won't be mad, Chuck, because it's no different that killing an enemy. It's something you'll have to do, no matter how distasteful it might seem. It's something you'll have to do, if the situation requires it, and I trust you enough to know when that time will come."_

"_Sarah, I don't think I could pull something like that off. Really. I just…I don't cheat, Sarah. It's not something I would consider. They'd see right through it."_

_She was quiet, molding herself against his cooling back, trying to absorb him into her skin._

"_Shhh. Listen. Carina's the obvious target. Then Faith if Carina's not in the mood…oh, crap, her not in the mood?" They both chuckled and then she continued._

"_But Chuck, stay away from Amanda. She's mini-me, and she's always watching you. The other day on the beach when you were baiting Carina – she was watching. I saw it. Chuck, she's the only one I'm afraid I might lose you to so please, stay away from Amanda."_

"_I'll stay away from them all. There's no way I'll do this." She got mad, pissed, angry, whatever word you'd use._

"_**You will do it because it's a survival tool just like your pistol or a knife. You need to survive so that our child has a father, Chuck and so I'll have my 'happily ever after'.**_

Chuck rubbed his face with his hands, shaking loose the memory of Sarah's demand that he sleep with one (or more if required) of his teammates if the situation required it. He'd often noticed Amanda Blaine's penetrating stares and her incredible similarities to his wife, Sarah. She was a smaller, less gregarious version of his wife, probably what Sarah had been like earlier in her career. He would have to watch out for that one.

He went up on deck and did a walk-around. He could spend hours here marveling at this and that, discovering new secrets every day. He happened to glance over at an adjoining berth where a sailing yacht was berthed Mediterranean style while divers tried to remove the buildup on her hull. There was something about that…

Chuck walked up to the foredeck and laughed. Carina had stripped to her bikini and was sprawled on a cushioned lounger soaking up the rays. She still complained about being 'chilled from New Orleans'.

"Hey, babe, I'm going over to the dock and borrow some flippers and a mask. I want to see how badly she's fouled with barnacles and crap. Be right back."

"Chuck, wait a sec and I'll go with you. You know the rules. Another one of us should be with you in addition to me but I wanted this time alone with you when you first saw the _Sprite._ Wait for me and I'll go with you."

"Carina, I'm going 25 yards and I'll be in full view the whole time. I'm not going to run or off myself. I won't give her the satisfaction. Stay. I'm going. Live with it. Maybe I'll be nicer after I know she's clean below the water line."

He walked off without waiting for her reply. He knew she would watch him like a hawk but he wasn't doing anything but what he told her he was going to do – lulling her into a trusting place.

He borrowed an aqualung, flippers, weight belt and a mask and promised to give the guy a tour of the _Sprite_ and also asked him to order a full team's worth of diving equipment. He figured they could motor out to one of the wrecks on the weekend and have a team dive. A good exercise in building trust.

He kicked off his deck shoes and t-shirt and donned his equipment and walked up to where Carina was now snoozing. He knew that she'd slipped off to sleep the instant he'd boarded. She took her duty seriously.

"Carina, wake up and spot for me. I don't like diving alone, even in 20' of water. Just follow the bubbles and get help from the dive shop if I don't come up in 20 minutes or so." He put on the flippers and gloves and went over the side.

The water was murky but he could easily see that the fiberglass hull was fairly clear of barnacles and any other buildups that would create drag and burn fuel at a higher-than-planned rate. He swam along half the port side and then under the stern to begin a sweep of the starboard hull when he spotted a box fixed to the metal keel.

He pulled off the clean box that was held on by strong magnets. He used the dive knife to pry a corner up and the managed to pop it loose. It was clean and hadn't been in the water long. A wire was strung along the entire keel almost to the bow and he knew it was a low frequency device that used the unusual antenna length to carry the signal.

Chuck swam up to the stern and pulled himself up to the dive platform that comprised a part of the stern. He looked at the metal and plastic device and shook his head.

He stripped off his diving gear and went in search of Carina, pissed off and full of angry questions that demanded immediate answers. If this was an example of the competency of his new team, they were all in a deep pile of doggy doo.

Chuck walked up to where Carina was dozing on the deck and kicked the lounger she was laying on over on its side, dumping her on the deck. He didn't care if she sported bruises for the next week or so. They would serve as reminders of how she'd flaked off in supervising the team's examination of the _Sprite._

Carina bounced to her feet, mad as hell but quickly put all thought of popping her boss in the mouth on hold when she saw the look on Chuck's face. She took in his expression and the box and wires he was holding in his hands and knew the best course of action was to shut her mouth and take her tongue lashing.

"Agent Hansen, get the team down here immediately. Have them bring their bug detectors, swimming gear and a change of clothes. This was attached to the keel. I'm going back down to explore the rest of the hull. You get those…idiots back here and go over this entire floating whorehouse with _another_ finetoothed comb and find all the items you missed. There're at least one or more transmitters in this scow that relay to this master transmitter. Find them."

"Chuck, I…"

"Shut up. Do what you're told. Vacation is over. We're back in the game whether we're tasked or not. We're all in the crosshairs, Hansen, not just my tramp wife, understand? This is newly placed. There's no growth or scum on the casing. It's a CIA unit. You figure it out. I'm going down below again."

He whirled on his heel and stomped off to the dive deck, a sly grin on his face. _'Better than an ice water enema to get their attention and teach them a lesson: Talley is the Team Leader, not Carina Hansen or anyone else.'_

An hour later he surfaced, walked over to the dive shack and got another two tanks and a dive light. There were anomalies in the hull that served no purpose whatsoever and they needed to be examined and he was losing the light.

He wouldn't have noticed the ceramic limpet mines that were irregularly shaped and discolored to match the hull if he hadn't been using the dive light. The intersect dumped data regarding the US Navy's ceramic limpet mines into his forebrain, providing a lot more questions than answers.

The 12 mines were placed below the sleeping quarters, the fuel bunkers and the diesel engines. He was lucky that he'd deactivated the transmitter because it also was capable of initiating the detonation sequences for the mines.

The team was sitting around in the salon drinking beer or soft drinks and arguing about the placement of the 6 transmitters they'd located beneath locations they'd already pulled bugs from. Carina looked like she'd been crying but he didn't care. She'd be in worse shape if a limpet blew her ass off while she slept.

It got really quiet when he came in, wet and carrying a plastic dive bag. He set a limpet mine down in front of each of them, leaving the remainder in the bag.

"These are US Navy anti-shipping directional limpet mines. They were distributed around the hull in strategic locations. Pope, you and Blaine would have been turned into gore since two were placed beneath your cabin. The same thing goes for the rest of you. The master suite had 4 and there were two each in the fuel and engine areas. You were sloppy and we'd have all died out at sea and no one would know it was sabotage."

He looked at Eric and Amanda and told them to go get dinner for the team and a case of beer because they were going to have a little discussion about the 'care and feeding' of Team Talley in mission mode.

**San Pedro  
**Ambergris Caye  
Belize

Sarah sipped her juice concoction and sighed. Another day in paradise without her husband. She wondered what he was doing? Was he sitting out on the patio watching the sun set as she would be doing in a few hours? Was he safe?

She'd checked off every item on her 'Chuck List' and added a few more after thinking a bit about her pregnancy. Chuck hadn't considered running with a pregnant woman in tow and some items simply didn't provide for such a contingency so she'd added what she thought was 'necessary'.

Tomorrow she planned on a thorough recon of the island, starting with available doctors, grocery stores and meeting with the island constabulary. She wanted them to know who she was and why she was there, in her role as a wife waiting for her husband to come back from war. It never hurt to have the fuzz looking out for her.

Rubbing her yet-to-be baby bump and smiling softly, she sent a mental hug to her Chuck and prayed to a God she no longer thought cared to watch over her big dork and keep them all safe.

God hears all prayers. Sometimes he says 'No'.

APR


	39. Blonde Assassin in the Mix

Greeneyedgirl34

A/N: I know it's been a while but I've been busy with other things. I really hate ending this. It's been very cathartic in its own way. Nicole will hate the ending but it's the way things worked out in my hospitalized mind.

APR

* * *

MV _Sprite_

The 'care and feeding' discussion broke up after midnight. Chuck and Carina remained in the lounge after the others had left and cleaned up the clutter.

"Boss, I'm really sorry about letting you down. I know we should have done another run-through but the bugs were really well-hidden and no one figured on a complete set of redundant transmitters _under_ those we found. As for the hull, no one here has any boat experience other than small stuff and we'd have missed the conforming limpets for sure. Not in our training."

"We can't assume anything, Carina, not for a minute. Someone's playing us and playing for keeps. If the idiots can't see that, then we're all as good as dead. We have to maintain mission alertness 24/7 from now until we deploy and especially after we deploy. Art's under a lot of pressure to break up the status-quo on the intersect project and the new NSA director has visions of empire just like Beckman did."

"So when are we going to deploy and to where? Any clues?"

"Nope. Art just said 'be ready for immediate deployment' and that could mean in 10 minutes or a week or more. He wouldn't even tell me the damned mission parameters so we'll have to pack to the max, just like New Orleans."

"I'll have the guys start transferring the armory from the plane tomorrow. Now, I have a personal question and I won't take 'no' for an answer."

"Fine. Ask away." He wondered if he'd laid it on too thick and now was going to pay the price.

"You're rubbing your chest a lot. Is it habit or pain? I need to know, Talley, if you're up for the mission or going to go tits-up at some critical point. I think you need a cardio physical again. Just to be sure of things. Just the ultrasound to ensure that the aorta is still strong, Chuck."

She'd seen him stop his almost unconscious move to rub his chest. Damn that traitorous bitch! She'd done this to him and he was taking the 'high road' and ignoring what were obvious danger signs.

"Tomorrow, Chuck. It won't take more than an hour and I'll feel better knowing that if we get all sweaty you aren't going to die on me!" She tried to turn it into a joke because she knew he'd react better to humor than concern.

"Fine, Shorts. If it will let you sleep better, we'll run in and have the cardio-quacks have a look-see. But not tomorrow. Early the next day. We still have some team-building to do and right now I need a shower and need to quit worrying about stuff. I got half the scum of the harbor on me. Yech!"

"Want to see how long it'll take to use up all the hot water? I won't push you farther than you're ready to go. But I agree with you. It's time to start living and quit worrying if only for the time it takes to shower."

"Um, Carina…"

"Hey, I'm not trying to get you all hot and bothered, just clean, Boss Man. That's all. Honest!" She tried to put an innocent look on her face but knew he'd see right through it. _'Too soon, Carina, too damned soon.'_

He leaned over and grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet and into a hug. He whispered, "Carina, showering with you will always make me hot and bothered. I'll tell you what, you wash my back and I'll wash yours, but that's as far as it goes, Shorts. I remember Mexico and how insidiously sneaky you were with those hands of yours!"

'Mexico again. He keeps bringing up Mexico! And it was his hands that were so…'

Chuck laughed. Manipulating Carina could be fun as well as entertaining. It was the actual act that he had problems with – big, huge problems. He thought back to what Sarah had demanded of him and sighed.

"**You will do it because it's a survival tool just like your pistol or a knife. You need to survive so that our child has a father, Chuck and so I'll have my 'happily ever after'".**

She would have her damned 'happily ever after' if he had to sleep with all the women in Florida to ensure it.

Chuck let Carina lead him down the stairs to the stateroom deck and drag him into the master stateroom. She pulled his shirt over his head and pulled down his swimming trunks and then turned and quickly took off her own bikini and then walked into the master bath and turned on the shower. There were jets on each of the three walls as well as hand-held units and she held one and sprayed her hair while turning her back to the door.

Chuck felt a sense of dread but then recalled his wife's words again and especially the _vehemence _of her tone. He closed his eyes for a moment and then grinned. The things he did for love…

He slipped in and grabbed the soap and a wash cloth and began washing Carina's shoulders and back and then sprayed the soap off noting that the shower head was adjustable. Feeling evil Chuck rise, he adjusted the spray until it was a pulsing stream and allowed it to pummel her sleek back muscles and the directed the stream to her buttocks.

Carina was sluicing the shampoo from her hair and gasped as the hot pulsing stream laved her buttocks. She turned quickly and decided that two could play the teasing game and allowed the gentle spray to cover Chuck's chest and then she adjusted it downward until the pulsing was directed towards his crotch. He smiled at her and adjusted the shower until it was a fine needle-like pulsing and flushed the shampoo residue from her hair, allowing the spray to pass down her back.

She shut off her shower spray and let it drop to the floor and she stepped close until she was flush against him. His smile faltered as he turned off his own spray and dropped it and took her in his arms and kissed her with hunger and desperation. She responded to his hunger with hunger of her own and let her palms trail down across his chest until she reached her goal and began stroking him.

"Carina, please, don't…"

"Shhh, Boss Man. I need this much more than you do. Please, Chuck, please? Please…"

He scooped her up and carried her into the master suite and dropped her on the bed. He remembered an old dirty joke and leaned down over Carina's wet form and whispered _eatin' ain't cheatin' _and blew lightly in her ear enjoying her gasp as she realized what he meant. His mouth began to move over her wet, hot flesh and her moans and cries further enflamed his lust…

Sometime later she whispered that she loved him and it didn't matter if he never loved her, she still would. She snuggled against him and whispered that she'd always be by his side until he left her. In a few moments she was asleep.

* * *

Chuck felt such self-loathing for what he'd done. He really did love Carina but not in a romantic way. He remembered a term from a philosophy class he took at Stanford: Platonic Love. She was his best friend besides Sarah and would always have his back. He was constantly betraying her loyalty and this time was the worst…he'd done it deliberately.

Disgusted with himself, he went up on deck and decided to kill some time until he was sleepy reading the manuals for the _Sprite._ He'd just leaned down to pull the manuals from beneath the cockpit instrument panel when the side window shattered and a bullet passed through the space he'd occupied less than a second ago.

Fully awake and definitely energized, he crawled over to the power panel and pulled the main breaker plunging the boat into darkness. He glanced up and saw that the cockpit and bridge were backlit by the sodium vapor lights on the docks across the seaway so he knew he'd have to keep low. At least it meant the shooter couldn't be using an enhanced night scope.

He called down the stairway to his sleeping team. "Everyone stay in your cabins but arm yourselves. We have a sniper across the waterway."

Chuck crawled back down the stairs and through the lounge and out onto the well deck. He lifted the seat cushion and felt around for the 9mm he'd stashed earlier and grabbed it and the slithered over the side and into the warm water.

Carina jerked awake at the sound of Chuck's voice, not understanding his shouted warning anymore than the others had but heeding the urgency in his tone. She grabbed her pistol and went to each of the cabins and tapped at the door and counted heads. All agents were accounted for except for Blaine and Talley. All were armed. She knew that Chuck had left his weapon in their stateroom but had no idea where Blaine was.

"Eric, where's Amanda?" she hissed into the cabin.

"She went up on deck for something to drink. We had a little 'discussion' and I think she's pouting. We were going to talk to you and Talley about our situation…"

"Enough! We have a serious problem and Talley's alone and unarmed and probably dealing with it. One of us should have been on deck on alert. That's my fault. OK, assemble on the lounge deck but stay below the window line."

* * *

Amanda Blaine swam across the waterway towards where she'd seen the flash of the sniper's weapon. She'd been sitting on the cushions on the well deck feeling sorry for herself and had been looking directly at the sniper's location when he fired. She slipped over the railing on the dockside and then swam quietly towards the sniper's location and was now sitting in oozing crap along the shoreline hoping for another shot to provide her better bearings. All she had was her knife but it would be enough. No one would expect her to be so quick to respond – or so she hoped.

Chuck watched as a swimmer climbed up the shoreline and then hunkered down waiting for something. Chuck figured it was one of his team but wasn't sure of their loyalty. He knew it wasn't the shooter. Hoping his faith was well-placed, he swam on towards the shore.

Someone on board the yacht flashed a light and the sniper fired again with unknown results.

Amanda was sitting right below the shooter who was using a tourist bench as a shooting rest. She slowly climbed up the rock pilings that formed the 'shoreline' with her knife between her teeth, something her instructors told her was stupid but she needed both hands free to climb. She had lost her sheath somewhere in the water.

She must have made a noise or breathed too loudly or something because the shooter jumped over the bench and stood upright, aiming the sniper rifle down at her, not really sure if he'd heard something or not but nicely backlit by the lights of houses along the waterway.

Amanda leaned back and threw her knife at the dark shape just as Chuck fired his entire magazine at the sniper with absolutely no hope of hitting him from this angle and distance while treading water but he had to do something or his teammate was dead.

Amanda's throw was on target whereas every round fired by a desperate Talley hit the pilings right below the sniper. The sniper screamed in pain and ran away along the bike path towards the public piers.

The sniper had been a woman and when her running shape passed under the light at the end of the bike path it was obvious that she was a blonde.

Chuck quickly swam the rest of the way towards his teammate who was hanging onto the rocks. Had she been hit? Had _he _hit her with one of his wild shots?

"Amanda! Amanda! Answer me, damn it!" He started clamoring up the rocks until he reached her. She was hanging on to the rocks and was panting in fear.

"Hey, you did good, Amanda. You're as good with a blade as Sar…as my wife is. Are you hurt? Did I hit you by accident? I had to do something to distract the shooter…are you all right?"

"Y-yeah. Just let me catch my breath. I froze up, Agent Talley. I froze when I saw that big-assed barrel pointed at my face. Just like Atlanta. I froze. He couldn't have missed…I froze…I'm sorry…" The rest was lost in sobs. But Chuck was just damned glad his stupid stunt hadn't injured her.

"C'mon, let's get back to the _Sprite. _We'll swim if you think you can make it. I don't think walking over the causeway dressed like we are will go over big with the locals. I'm surprised the cops aren't here by now."

"Yeah. I can make it. Swimming is no big deal. I'm sorry for freaking out but…"

"Shhh. You're not the only one who freaked out tonight. Thirteen rounds and not one hit. And I could have hit you by mistake. Some team leader…"

* * *

They approached the _Sprite_ from the stern, talking loudly and making sure the team on board knew it was them. Eric and Faith hauled the two swimmers out of the water and wrapped them in blankets even though the night was warm while the team medic checked them out and gave them a thumbs' up.

"Damn it, Chuck, you shouldn't have hared off like that. You know you should never, ever, ever go after a sniper alone. Jesus, you taught me that. And Blaine, you better listen up, little girl…"

"Carina, stop. You don't know the situation. Blaine was already on deck and saw the flash of the sniper's first round and went on the attack. You'd have done the same thing. Me? I just swam towards the flash of the second shot. Blaine nailed the shooter with a knife throw that Walker would have envied. All I did was make noises at her."

"Her?" Faith asked the obvious question.

"Yeah. Her. A blonde her. A blonde her with long blonde hair just like…Sarah Talley's." Amanda Blaine muttered in a hushed voice. She hated to bring up the obvious but knew it had to be dealt with and the sooner the better.

"Cover story? The cops are on the pier." Eric had noticed the flashing blue lights and saw the officers on both sides of the waterway. Someone had called the cops.

"Charles Talley survived an assassination attempt by an unknown gunman. MAN, people, gun_man_, got it?" Carina assumed her role as 2IC after seeing the dazed look on her partner's face.

"That's the official line. Amanda, take Chuck below and get him dressed for 'company'. You might want to put on some clothes yourself, short-stuff. Although a 'naked Blaine' might go a long way towards distracting the cops." She laughed and nudged them below and then went to meet the local police.

'_Shit. Is Sarah handling the sanction on Chuck? Could she kill her own husband, the father of her child? Is she even pregnant?'_

Any other thoughts on the subject would have to wait. She had to deal with the cops first.

* * *

APR


	40. How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

GreenEyedGirl35

Moving towards the end. I promise.  
APR

* * *

**Aboard the MV _Sprite  
_Sixteen miles east of Miami, FL  
Cruising SSE at 6KTS**

Ron Downs, the team medic, sat in the lounge listening to Talley's heart and wishing he had access to an ultrasound. The plan was to make a standard appointment with the cardio specialist at the approved clinic but the assassination attempt put that idea into the crapper.

"Chuck, as far as I can tell your BP is a little up there but there are no obvious sounds of cardiac distress. Damn it, I'm just a medic and not a trained physician. You really need to have someone with experience do a thorough workup on you. Carina's…"

"Carina's a worrier, Ron. That's what makes her so interesting to deal with. Outside, she's the Devil's own temptress but inside, she's a little girl scared to death. Remember that when you deal with one of her rages. She's afraid of failing and of losing a teammate. Now, tell the others what you told me and let's get the show on the road. We'll be in Miami tomorrow and I'll check into the facility there. We'll _all_ go. No one wanders around unescorted."

"Works for me." He gathered up his 'medical crap' and went to find Hansen and brief her.

* * *

Grimes Residence  
Boynton Beach, FL

Anna Wu Grimes hissed as she extended her arms forward in her Tai Chi workout.

_'Fucking bitch has all the luck in the world. I had that big blonde head in my sights and then someone let loose a fusillade of shots that scared the crap out of me and then she throws that fucking knife of hers…'_

She'd panicked and run down the bike path towards the parking lot where she'd left her car. She still managed to keep some of her wits about her and ran under each of the decorative street lamps, sure that any observers would see the long blonde wig.

She hissed again but forced herself through the final moves before toweling off the sweat and draining her bottle of water. She plucked out the front of her workout sweatshirt and checked the four stitches and swore when she saw that one of the finely entered stitches had torn a bit of skin.

'_The last thing I need is a scar on my breast. The moron thinks I had a 'biopsy' and he's been hanging around like I'm going to die or something. Being the object of Morgan's love is so damned…suffocating.'_

She hit the shower and then prepared her mission report for her new contact. Graham had passed her off to a 'lesser being' and she could see the handwriting on the wall for Anna Wu, secret agent…a dead end career. Well, she had plans of her own once she had control of all that CharahCorp money and then arranged an accident for her beloved husband.

* * *

Residence of Serenity Rogers  
San Pedro Town, Belize

Serenity. That was her new name but hardly her state of mind. She'd made a habit of buying the Miami Herald from the local news stand to see if she could catch any references to CharahCorp Int'l or it's scrumptious founder and CEO, Charles Talley. It didn't matter that it was usually 3 or 4 days old by the time it got to them. It was still news from home.

She caught a _major_ reference on the front page below the fold:

**Software Developer Escapes Assassination Attempt**

Her first thought was to use one of the two burn phones she had bought prior to leaving Denver and call him and demand that he allow her to return to his side. They would face this new challenge together just as they had done in the past.

She could hear his voice in her mind responding to her demand.

'_This is what you wanted, Sarah, live with it.'_

No! That wouldn't be what he'd say.

'_They missed and besides, someone's got to be around to raise little Sarah so you keep your sweet ass in Belize until I can figure out how to 'die' convincingly'._

Yeah. That's what he'd say. And that's what she'd do. Stay the course. But God help anyone who harmed even one hair on her Nerd's head. She'd carve their heart out with a wooden spoon and laugh while doing it.

She read the article several times and then fired up her laptop and started searching for additional news. Someone like Charles Talley made news – especially since someone just tried to 'off' him with a sniper rifle. She wondered how Uncle Art was handling the news of someone's failure?

* * *

MV _Sprite  
_Sixteen miles off Miami Harbor

Carina listened to Ron's report and then called Arthur Graham to arrange a pickup and escort from and back to their dock site to the Federal Facility in Miami.

"Director, any ideas on who has Talley in her sights?" She refused to believe that Sarah would ever harm her husband – physically.

"A few but nothing you or I can act on. I'll have the transport people there to meet the _Sprite _and a crew to refit your stores as well as install some enhancements you'll need for the mission. I'll brief you all via video once Talley's done with the medics. Any further contact with Sarah? I can't believe she'd leave him so…damned abruptly."

"Nothing since the phone call and he basically told her to 'fuck off'. He's still hurting, Director, but he's coming around slowly. It was good to see how he responded to the sniper attack. It impressed the team that he still had it together. Blaine's actions were unexpected but surely welcome. She's like Sarah, only quieter. She's a lot like Walker was before Chuck popped up in her life."

"So, how are the two of you getting along? Things settling down?"

"Yeah. She pretty well keeps to herself and I've been busy with things here."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I meant between you and Talley."

"We're good, Uncle Art. He's quieter and thinks a lot more but that's to be expected, I guess. So, you thinking about retiring? We got room here for you to travel around with us."

"I've been thinking about his offer to take over as caretaker of the 'estate' and live in the carriage house. I'm not getting any younger and the politics up here is murder."

"Good. Pull the pin and meet us in Lantana. But leave the stuffed shirt in DC."

"I can still turn you over my knee, little girl, so keep a civil tongue in your head." He was laughing.

"Getting kinky in your old age, Art? Maybe Amelia can be more than a house mother?" Now she was laughing at the thought of Art smoking a cigar in the house and Amelia chasing him with her damned stick.

"Talk to you after Miami."

* * *

Arthur Graham then called his old friend and adversary Jorge Vasquez-Rios, the head of the Cuban Security Service.

"Arturo, what can the People's Republic of Cuba do for the Imperialists this time? Lost another agent?" He loved Arthur Graham like a brother and they shared many common traits and adventures in simpler times.

"I have a favor to repay and another to ask. I'm sending Talley and his crew down on a good will tour of sorts. I owe you for sending him back to us. Now I need you to allow him sanctuary if he asks for it. He's a broken man, Jorge. My daughter…she left him in a most egregious way and it's ruined him for the business so I'm sending him down there to establish legitimate business connections with your country and perhaps begin again."

"Wonderful! We can use the hard currency but what about his 'real' job?"

"He's done. He's done enough and knows nothing of value. He was purely an operative and I give you my word he never acted against you, ever."

"Consider it done. Now, the newest favor?" He knew that Graham would lie to him for 'business reasons' but not about this. This was personal and he believed him.

He outlined his needs and the target and Jorge understood immediately and agreed. He had 'assets' in the general area and would take care of it within the next week.

"Thank you, old friend. I've decided to retire. I'll keep in touch. Try not to marry Talley off to one of your granddaughters, Jorge. He's a good man but your women are too hot-blooded for him!"

They talked for another few minutes and then made the usual promises that neither could ever keep. Each hung up, satisfied with what they'd asked for and received in return.

* * *

MV _Sprite  
_Twenty-two miles off the coast of Miami

The team spent the night playing cards and drinking beer and telling each other wild tales of their past exploits. Faith and Ron disappeared early. Neither of them were big drinkers and they had other things to discuss – privately.

Carina watched them go below and smiled. Faith had found her partner and he seemed to be good for her. She remembered how he'd fretted over her burn and now he seemed to just…fret over her. _'That's an interesting term for love'._ She giggled and caught a glare from Chuck who wasn't allowed to eat or drink after 6pm because of the physical the next afternoon.

"What's so damned funny, Carina? They're good together. You should be happy for her."

"I am, Boss Man. I just was thinking about how he mothered her when she got burned."

"There's no scarring and the hair is coming back fully. I'd say mothering worked."

She leaned over and whispered that she could use some mothering herself. He blushed and mouthed 'later'. He hoped she'd drink more and he'd be spared 'performing' again. Not that he…hell…he liked making her moan and squirm. What man wouldn't? He just didn't like the empty feeling it left him with. He missed his wife. He hated deceiving Carina. Basically, he was beginning to loath what he was becoming – a user like Larkin.

* * *

Amanda Blaine watched the interplay between Talley and Hansen and wondered if she was the only one who felt that Chuck was 'acting'? Sure, they'd been partners for years and sex between partners was almost unavoidable if only as a release from the incredible tension of the missions but she didn't believe Chuck would tumble into bed with her. She'd heard the tale about Mexico and believed it. She had betrayed him once and would do it again.

She and Eric had agreed that the stateroom had two beds and they'd both be used. She just didn't feel like sharing physical intimacy with him – not when her heart was breaking each time she watched Carina and Chuck. She sighed, finished her beer and wandered down to the galley for a snack. Every time she looked at Talley she saw Bobby and it was getting to the point where she couldn't bear the thought of him with _her._

* * *

Chuck knew Carina was now way past her limit and suggested she go and shower and he'd be along as soon as he did a final check and set the autopilot and the sea anchor. She nodded sleepily and he breathed a sigh of relief. She'd be asleep before she could find the shower.

Chuck finished up his duties and did a walk-around the deck and then noticed that the galley light was still on and walked down to check it out.

He spotted Amanda sitting in a corner of the breakfast nook, her legs drawn up under her t-shirt and her arms around her knees, quietly crying. He debated leaving her in privacy but thought better of it. He slipped in beside her and whispered that if she needed to unload or vent, he was a good listener.

She half expected Eric's voice but was surprised and embarrassed that it was Chuck's voice and warmth that she felt.

"I just…I miss Bobby, OK? I know it was wrong to fall for the mark but he was special and we were going to run and go off the grid but he felt obligated to follow his team leader's orders and it got him killed! I just feel so damned lost and alone." She was whispering, not really wanting to talk to _him_ but unable to stop herself.

"It's OK to feel the way you do, Amanda. It's a human reaction. You loved someone and now they're …gone. You're lonely. It's natural. Nothing I can say or do will change that." His voice matched hers in volume. Whispering seemed more appropriate considering the soul baring she was doing.

She leaned against him and he put his arm around her. It was a natural thing to do. Offer comfort.

"I could tell you that it gets easier over time but that's not true. When my first wife was killed by a rogue agent - I found out I should have been the target. I tried to end it but Sarah saved me and someone out there is just waiting for you to save them or be saved by them. Trust me. The pain dulls and you forget the bad times and just hold on to the good ones."

"She saved you but for what? She left you, Talley. Sure, she might be pregnant but she might just be going off doing what spies do. We're different, women spies. Just ask Hansen. Look what _she_ did to you in Mexico and see what she's doing now. Chuck – you can't trust her. You can't trust _any _of us."

He stiffened because he was beset by the same exact fears and here was this smaller version of his Sarah saying exactly what he was afraid to hear.

"I have to trust my team and so do you. Just keep your emotions to yourself. If you need to vent or rage or just cry and need a shoulder, I'm it. So is Faith. I think Carina's too afraid to show too much emotion for fear someone will think she's soft…she is, kinda."

"Ok, but…"

"It's late, Amanda, and we have a big day tomorrow. I'll see you at breakfast."

He gave her shoulder a brotherly squeeze and then got up and walked back to his stateroom rehashing their conversation and smashing his own personal doubts against the love he had for his wife. Nothing would keep him from her. Nothing.

Carina was asleep and snoring softly so he just slipped in beside her and finally fell asleep.

* * *

Miami Federal Facility  
Medical Section  
11AM

Faith Ward sat in the waiting area while her team leader finished up with the cardiologists. The rest of her team had been left behind to 'supervise' the loading of additional supplies and weapons and equipment they'd need for their upcoming mission.

She threw the two-year old magazine she'd been leafing through on the coffee table and stood up when Chuck came out with the cardiologist. Neither looked particularly happy but then Talley had a habit of pissing of the medical staff without really trying. He simply hated being poked and prodded and let everyone in earshot know about it.

"Faith, I have to hit the commo section and talk to Art. Why don't you go down and get something to eat and I'll meet you in the cafeteria in about an hour and we'll head out to the _Sprite._ And if you could, would you mind swinging by the pharmacy and filling this prescription?"

"Sure. I'll get it filled and then meet you in the cafeteria. Carina's already called twice so you might want to call Momma Hen and let her know the verdict."

Chuck nodded to the doctor who motioned for Faith to remain behind for a minute, unseen by Chuck.

When the elevator closed, Faith looked at the doctor with one raised eyebrow. "OK, what gives? He's the team leader and _your_ patient. I'm not his girlfriend, wife or mother, so why involve me?"

He almost laughed. He wouldn't want to get between this one and Talley. "Your team leader is headed for trouble. Make absolutely sure he doesn't miss taking those pills. They're blood thinners. He's going to have to face up to facts that his days are numbered and that he's not immortal."

She felt a jolt of nauseating fear deep in her gut and her face must have shown it.

"He's not circling the drain, Agent, but he's going to be in serious trouble if he doesn't slow down and think seriously about a medical leave of absence. The aortic wall is thinning and bulging right where it's most critical that it _not._ Those pills will keep his blood pressure low and this prescription will thin his blood and aid in keeping his stubborn ass alive until he has surgery."

"Is he…mission capable?" What she really wanted to ask was if he was in imminent danger of something horrible but kept it on a professional level. She knew that the physician would be on the horn to Art the minute she left.

He ran his fingers through his hair and laughed without humor. "Yeah, just as long as he doesn't get nailed again in the ticker or the stress level climbs into the stratosphere. He's capable but it's not advised and I told him as much. He told me to 'get stuffed' and called a halt to the tests. Stubborn bastard."

She took the second prescription and went to have both filled. Carina would have his ass for his attitude. Faith wished she wasn't the one to carry the news to Carina. She'd rather Carina killed the doctor than her.

* * *

Secure Communications Section

Chuck's connection to Art was delayed. Art told him to wait a few minutes. He had a fire to put out. Considering what he did for a living, it could mean anything from a personnel problem to a war so Chuck just cooled his heels and waited.

He mentally reviewed his 'physical' with the cardiologist.

'_Agent Talley, you need to scale back your personal activities and go on medical leave. We can arrange for a competent cardiovascular surgeon to go in and do some work. You won't be out of the game for more than two or three months. Consider it a vacation and a guarantee of an additional 10 or 20 more years assuming you don't buy the farm on the job.'_

Great. Just fucking great. If Sarah was still here he'd take the offer but she wasn't and this did nothing whatsoever to change his immediate plans. He had no choice in the matter. Maybe once they got situated and things calmed down and 'the Talleys' weren't 'items of interest' he'd take the chance and get the surgery but not now. He needed to be with his wife as soon as possible.

The connection to DC and Arthur Graham chimed and he was presented with the stern visage of his 'Director' in no mood for quibbling.

"Agent Talley, you're on stand-down effective immediately. Your team will take the _Sprite_ back to Boynton Beach and you, my young friend, are going to have the surgery that you need – no objections! There are two armed agents prepared to take you back to your rowboat and I've already spoken with the doctors there in Miami. No backtalk, Chuck."

"Art, what about Sarah? I have to find her before your fellow bureaucrats kill her. That's more important than anything else right now and you damned well know it!"

"I've convinced the others to pull the sanction off Sarah and I've put out the word that all is forgiven and that you need her. Go quietly, Agent Talley, or go in handcuffs but you _will_ go, understand? Chuck, I want to see you, Sarah and my grandchild all together and safe. Is that too much to ask of you?"

He knew when he was beaten and Graham watched as Talley seemed to deflate in front of him. He disconnected from the conference and started filling out retirement papers. Becoming a handyman and caretaker suddenly seemed like a damned fine career change. He'd call Jorge and explain the delay.

* * *

MV _Sprite  
_Miami Yacht Basin  
Miami, FL

Carina watched as Chuck climbed out of the staff pool car and walked up the gangway to the _Sprite_ like a condemned man mounting a gallows. He looked so sad and her heart broke a little as he avoided all eye contact and just muttered "Cast off and let's go home," and went below to his stateroom.

Eric took the _Sprite _out and after clearing the harbor and immediate sealanes, he set the autopilot and throttles and went below to grab something to eat with the others. They'd be in Boynton Beach in 4 hours.

The team sat around talking quietly with no one actually saying a damned thing. It was like the family sitting around the kitchen table waiting for grandma to die. It was that kind of atmosphere.

"OK, does anyone have any idea how we're going to get word to his wife that he's …" Ron started to say but Carina interrupted him.

"_She_ forfeited her right to know when she gutted him and left him. I'll call Ellie and she and Devon can come down. I think it would be a good idea for someone with a little medical knowledge to be an observer. Devon's a thoracic surgeon. He'll make sure what's being done is necessary and proper."

"Good idea. Seeing them might buck up his spirits, too. Attitude is half the battle in times like this."

"I'll call them now. Shit! They don't know about Sarah! Man, Ellie's going to have a fit!"

Carina went forward for some privacy. She had no idea how Ellie would react to the news about Sarah but knew that she'd be on the next plane out when she heard about Chuck's 'condition'.

"Doctor Bartowski."

"Ellie, it's Carina Hansen. Chuck's cardiologist has demanded that he go in and have his aorta repaired. I think that's the word. It's 'bulging' and they're insisting that…"

"When and where, Carina? How's Sarah handling it? Have her hormones leveled out? Is she climbing the walls over this?"

"Ellie…Sarah's…she left him, Ellie. Last week. She gave him an ultimatum about the job and, well, I guess his response was not what she wanted to hear. She caught a plane right after she dropped you off at the airport. She called here once but Chuck…"

"But Chuck what? C'mon, Carina. I don't want to come down there unprepared. How is he? He must be devastated. How could she…?"

"She left him a shitty note and her rings and burned all their photographs and Chuck took it really hard. We're keeping a close watch on him. He's on medical leave until further notice."

"Because of Sarah leaving? Or because of his heart?" Damned Hansen. Pulling information out of her was like pulling teeth. Damned spies.

"Because he tried to eat his gun when he found her note and rings. He's fine now but the heart thing has really got him down. We need you and Devon to kind of watch out for things. You know what I mean. Watch out for him in the medical areas."

"I'll call you when I get my flight information. Devon will be down in a few days once he clears his schedule."

* * *

Towson's Corners, MD

Ellie closed her cell phone and opened her desk drawer and took out the envelope she'd received in the mail a few days earlier. Sarah Talley, now Serenity Rodgers, had written her and explained everything that had happened and why and provided her with a cell number that was only to be used in the event of an emergency.

'_Well, I think even the great Chuck Talley would consider this an emergency!'_

* * *

San Pedro Town  
Belize

Serenity Rodgers walked down the beach, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico and wishing for the zillionth time that Chuck was walking, splashing her with water and daring her to do this or that. Her cell interrupted her thoughts and she almost ignored it until she remembered that only two people had the number.

She dug through her big straw purse and finally found it and answered breathily, "Serenity Rodgers".

"Sar – Serenity, it's Ellie. Chuck's having heart surgery and I think that constitutes an emergency. That damned skank Carina called. She sounded scared to death and wants Devon and I down there to make sure nothing happens medically that shouldn't. Can…can you come back or is it too dangerous?"

"There's a sanction out on me. If I come back, they'll kill me or put me in detention. Oh, Ellie, this is so unfair to Chuck. He's almost ready to disengage and then this happens. Damn it, I shouldn't have pushed him to go off the grid. I'm terrified for him but I can't break my word to him. Can you understand, sis? He's so…"

"Hey, calm down. I understand a lot more now than I did back in LA when this crap first happened. You stay the course that you two plotted. I'll be with him every step of the way and I'll see to it that damned skank keeps her hands off him, too!"

"Um, Ellie, he might have to…I mean, we talked about it and I'm OK with it and he might have to…"

"Oh, no! Hell, no! He's a 'cardiac cripple' so far as they're concerned. No nookie. No way. I'll fill him in and then I'll make sure they all leave him alone. I need to talk to Devon and get some specifics on things like recovery time and stuff and I'll keep in touch as often as I can. You take care of my niece or nephew and their momma. Have you seen an OB guy yet?"

"Next week. He makes rounds. This is kinda the third world, Ellie."

"Yeah, and that bothers me. You do exactly what he says and if you have any questions, call me."

APR


	41. Better Than She Deserved

GreenEyedGirl36

Nik wrote: It's short but be glad you got it. He talks way faster than I can type. I had to fill in a lot of blanks when he'd doze off and I could catch up. If any of you get a PM from him, please, just delete it.

Nikki B

* * *

Boynton Beach, FL

Anna Wu Grimes walked out of her doctor's office and stretched her arms over her head enjoying the absence of the tug and itch of the stitches where that damned blonde had stabbed her. She looked at her watch and smiled and thought '_Happy Hour at the Three Georges_' and pulled out of the lot and headed for the marina. She didn't notice the Black Chrysler 300 pull out behind her and follow at a respectable distance.

She knew she was very popular and the guys there were usually either married and looking for some strange or single and looking for a date. She never took off her rings. What they saw was what they got. Hot sex with no strings. She laughed thinking that the government paid her $74k and change to whore around and keep an eye on Talley and his harem.

The sky was black and the wind was picking up as she walked down the quay to the rear of the bar ducking in just before the sky tore open and it rained. She always used the service entrance since it provided her with an excellent vantage point from which to select her seat and mark. The Honey Trap training was good for something after all.

* * *

Charah House  
Lantana, FL

Chuck was on the phone with Ellie and when he was done, he was going to find Carina and beat her ass for worrying his sister. No, she'd probably enjoy it. He'd have to come up with something else – something she couldn't possibly turn into a sex thing.

"Ellie, she shouldn't have bothered you. You and Devon have enough on your plates with your own practices. Just stay up there in snow country and don't worry. I'm sure Hansen will keep you in the loop. I'm surprised this hasn't been on ET yet."

"Chuck, you need to reach and maintain a sense of _Serenity_ if you're going to be in the right mental frame of mind for what's to come. I'm coming down there tomorrow. I'll call the skank with my arrival time and she, not you, will meet me at the airport. Devon has two procedures that he can't postpone and then he'll be down to oversee things."

Knowing he couldn't win, he folded his hand. "Fine, but don't bitch if you're bored out of your mind. I'll have Amelia make up the guest bedroom. Uh, you might as well know – the 'skank' and I are sharing our suite. Y'know, maybe I should have just stayed with her in Mexico. Things were so simple there." He hadn't missed her obvious use of _Serenity_. He wondered how she could possibly know about her cover name?

"In a few months this will all be behind you and you'll probably find out that life can be good again. Achieve _Serenity_ and just wait. You'll see. Meanwhile, no sex, Chuck. I know how badly Sarah tore you up when she left and I know how the skank, er, Carina, loves you, but not with this aorta thing. You're celibate for the duration, bucko. I'll make damned sure she understands that, too. I'll call her after we're done."

* * *

San Pedro Town  
Belize

Her 'burn phone' rang and she looked at the area code and knew it was Ellie.

"Hey, sis."

"Hey. I'm going down there. I think I handled the 'skank' and our guy getting it on. I told her he's a cardiac cripple for the duration and that sex might kill him. She already decided to cool it on her own. Maybe she isn't as dumb as I thought. Anyway, I'll let you know how things really are once I have the chance to talk with him."

"Great. Listen, we need to keep these calls short and avoid names just like you're doing. Don't know who might be listening in. I look forward to your next call."

She hung up and opened the gate in her pastel-painted compound wall. She _was_ tired and worried and scared and missing her tall Nerd. It was her favorite time of the day – dusk. The sun was setting and the reflection on the water signified another day ending and another day closer to when she and her beloved nerd would be together. Rubbing her 'baby basket' and sighing, she willed herself not to slip down and wallow in self-pity but rather she wandered out to the 'back yard' and sat in a large rattan chair and began telling her baggage the story of how she met her daddy and fell in love.

* * *

Public Dock  
Boynton Beach, FL

Gustavo Jimenez was unsettled by his newest assignment. He was used to killing it was just that never had he been given an assignment directly and personally by the head of Cuban Intelligence. It had been stressed to him that it must look like an accident and no suspicion of foul play could even be remotely considered. There were international implications that could damage relations between the US and Cuba if it was discovered that the death was not an accident.

For 5 days he'd followed his quarry, noting habits, abilities and 'blind spots'. She had a husband who was not to be hurt, no children (and for that he thanked the Blessed Virgin because that would be a mortal sin to rob children of their mother). He soon realized that if the target had children, taking their mother from them might be considered a blessing given her behavior and how often she met other men for sex. Her husband was in love and blind to her antics.

He waited in the alcove near the service entrance to the bar for her to come out. He had plans for her. He had noted several spots where an 'accident' might occur but she herself selected the place of her death by inadvertently catching a heel of her sandal between two planks. He imagined the scenario, plotted it and choreographed his approach, the killing and the careful positioning of the body. It was what he did and he was very good at what he did.

Anna Wu Grimes was tipsy but hardly roaring drunk. The rain had apparently kept the horn dogs at home or in their motel rooms and so she decided to call it a night and get home and allow her husband to service her. He wasn't a bad lover and he tried to always satisfy her before his own release.

She was musing on a seduction scenario to get his motor running and walked out and saw that it was still raining and she had left her umbrella in the car.

"Shit!"

A man hustling up the planks to the service entrance almost collided with her and she felt a flash of annoyance until he smiled at her and offered her his apology.

"I am so sorry, beautiful lady. I did not watch where I was going. If you will permit it, allow me to escort you to your vehicle. It is raining dogs and cars and you have no umbrella and it would be a shame to spoil such beautiful hair and clothes."

'_Maybe tonight won't turn out so badly after all'_, she mused, smiling and taking in his appearance.

"That is very nice of you. Thank you. I really don't want to drive in this downpour. Perhaps you would let me buy you a drink as thanks while we wait and see if this rain will ever stop?"

"If you would not be offended, I suggest we walk down the dock to my boat and we can have a quiet drink in the salon while we wait? I have just arrived and was dreading spending a rainy night in port alone."

"That would be nice. I'm Anna." She smiled seductively, resting her palm on his forearm.

"I'm Gustavo and I'm delighted to meet you, Anna. Come. This way, please."

He led her down to where the planks met the dock and then grabbed the back of her head and slammed her, face first, into the large steel I-beam that supported the dock. Stunned, she started to collapse and he forced her face down on the dock and shoved her head under the oily water and held it there until he was sure his victim was dead from drowning.

Reaching back, he removed one of her sandals and shoved the heel firmly into the crevasse between the boards of the dock. To an investigator, it would appear that she jammed her heel in the crack, fell forward and struck her head on the I-beam and then slipped into the water, unconscious, and drowned.

Such a pity for one so lovely to die so tragically. He smirked, checked that the scenario matched his plan and then walked into the bar for a drink. He would call in his report and then catch a plane for Mexico City and then return to Cuba.

* * *

APR


	42. RIP

No, it's not the ghost of APR finishing up but me, Oldest Man. Nicole asked me to try and finish at least one of Jim's uncompleted stories and I opted for Green Eyed Girl since it's always been a personal favorite of mine. I PM'd APR after he'd finished another story that dealt with things I was familiar with and we seemed to click. I'm a generation ahead of him but am also retired military. I scribble on Castle never having any real inspiration on 'Chuck'. Hey, who could follow the master of angst? He left no notes, outlines, partially completed chapters, etc.

He was my friend and he bugged, badgered, coaxed, wheedled, punched and mauled at me to write something so I did. It's an addiction now. He must be laughing his ass off because he told me it would happen and I told him I was made of stronger stuff being a 'superior officer' and all. I should have known the S.O.B. had the inside track.

So, enough - this is short because a) I want to know if it has the APR flavor, b) if it's something you die hard APRers want to have continued and c) because I promised it before Memorial Day and I can't break my word to Nik. Memorial Day was special to Jim.

For APR.

* * *

**_Green Eyed Girl_** by APR & Oldest Man

Chapter 37

Carina hated to do it but she knew he'd be really upset if he found out later that she'd kept such important news from him. She knocked on the door of the team office and saw that he was once again staring off into space, his hand subconsciously rubbing his chest.

"Um, ah, Chuck, I need a few minutes alone with you, without interruption, OK? It's important. And will you _please_ quit rubbing your chest? I know it's a habit you developed when 'deep in thought' but given the situation, it freaks me out."

He glanced over at her and smirked. "You know you can have all the time you need, Shorts, no matter why. As for the chest? It's a habit like you said. Nothing more. It doesn't hurt if that's what you're worried about. No pressure, no pain. Habit. So, spill your guts, partner. It can't be all that bad."

She took a deep breath and just blurted out the facts as she knew them.

"Anna Grimes was drunk last night and caught her heel in the planks of the Two Georges dock and fell and hit her head on the steel piling. She fell into the Intracoastal and drowned, Chuck. I'm sorry for you loss. I know she was a friend from the old days."

"What! Anna dead? Oh, Morgan must be dying himself. I've got to get over there, Carina, right now. Nothing's more important that taking care of my friend. Nothing." He gave her his patented hairy eyeball and she knew that any objections would be pushed aside.

"Fine, but I'll drive you and stay in background until you're ready to leave. I know Morgan needs a friend right now and you're his oldest and dearest. Go change and we'll drive over there when you're ready."

* * *

Grimes Residence  
Boynton Beach, FL

Morgan grabbed his oldest friend in a hug that nearly crushed the air out of Chuck but he just bore the discomfort knowing it wouldn't even register on his friend's personal pain meter right now.

"God, Chuck, what am I going to do without her? She was all I had in the entire world – she _was_ my world!" He started crying and pushed Chuck away and sat back down and put his face in his hands and sobbed.

Chuck glanced over at Carina and gave her a sign to wait in the car. She just nodded, walked over to Morgan and gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead but didn't say anything. Words were wasted on him. He was lost in his own little world of grief and only Chuck could provide comfort.

"I'll wait in the car, Chuck. Take all the time you need. Find out if he needs any arrangements made and I'll take care of them."

"Thanks, Shorts. He just needs time to get used to the idea of being alone surrounded by people who aren't. It'll take time. Maybe I'll send him on a marketing trip once things calm down. He needs a change of scenery and a chance to be useful. He'll be OK, you'll see. He's made of sterner stuff than anyone knows."

"He's a lot like you, Chuck. I never saw that before but he is." She kissed him on the cheek and patted Morgan's shoulder and left, leaving the two to grieve. Chuck's comments hit home. The parallels were unmistakable. Chuck and Sarah, Morgan and Anna. Each woman 'departed' leaving a grieving spouse with the task of putting his life back together and moving on. Not something she could imagine ever doing herself.

Chuck sat down beside his friend and waited for him to quit crying. He'd wait as long as it took – that's what you did for a friend – waited until you could do something for them, anything at all, to lessen their grief.

He built a mental listing of things to do once the police released the body. He knew Morgan was in no shape to think of such things. He didn't know that Carina had already worked up a list on her iPad and prioritized it and had begun sending emails to the team giving each one assignments and timeframes. She was an excellent researcher and an organization freak. She'd already 'reserved' a spot for Anna in a Memorial Garden assuming Morgan wanted her cremated.

When Chuck walked out to the car two hours later she wordlessly handed him the iPad with a possible 'To-Do' list and a separate listing of those tasks already done or assigned to be completed before Anna's body could be claimed.

He looked over the list and felt pride and love for his partner. She never ceased to amaze him. She always seemed to be one step ahead of him – he just hoped she'd keep that trait after he disappeared and she became team leader.

"Carina, let's head over to the boat. I want to talk and I can't do it at the house or while you're driving, OK? I need you full attention without any distractions, OK?"

Feedback to APR's mail would be appreciated. I don't want to spend time on something that won't do the previous work justice.

OM for APR


	43. Plots Within Plots Within Plots

I'll post the final chapter and epilogue tomorrow and the following day.

Oldest Man

For APR and his rabid readers.

* * *

Aboard the MV _Sprite_

Chuck took Carina by the hand and led her aboard the _Sprite. _He led her into the main salon and motioned her to sit.

"I'll be right back. I just need to pull some documents from the stateroom safe."

He pulled a white Tyvex envelope from the safe and returned to the salon and sat down beside her. Chuck opened the envelope and took out a single sheet of paper, setting the rest aside for later.

"Okay, all this crap has got me to thinking and so I've made 'final arrangements' for – "

Carina shot up and stormed out onto the weather deck, tears in her eyes. She didn't want to do this. She _wouldn't_ do this. He wasn't going to die on her. He didn't need 'final arrangements' for years to come.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss into her hair. He knew she was hurting but he wanted to get through this while her mind was still thinking about all the things she'd done for Morgan and Anna.

"Honey, it's just a precaution, okay? I don't plan on needing it but I'll feel better, a lot better, knowing that someone I love and trust will be looking after things if I'm – if I'm gone. Now, come back into the salon and get comfortable. There's a lot to review and I want it done in one sitting. Please, Carina, do it for me."

It was simple. Carina got the house and 10% of the company stock, each of the other team members got 5% of the stock. Morgan got the remainder of the stock. In addition, each team member go $500,000 to start their 'run fund' deposited in an offshore account while Carina got $500,000 for the maintenance, taxes and insurance on the house plus $500,000 in cash for her 'run fund'.

"No, Chuck. It's too much. The house? It'll just go empty if you die because I'll be with you when you do. We're partners, Chuck, maybe more some day but partners and I won't leave you behind, ever."

"Hey, it's just contingency planning. I'll live to be 80 and you'll be…what, 50?" He wanted her to smile, to let him know it was okay between them. It must have been because she put her head down on his lap and just smiled up at him.

"Y'know, Chuck, if I'd known about this earlier, I might have knocked you off myself. Don't tell the others about it, okay? You never know what one of them will do for a cool half million bucks!"

They sat there for a couple of hours, Chuck running his fingers through her hair, lulling her to sleep. Her cell phone woke her and spoiled the most relaxing time he'd had in days.

"Hansen, secure." It was Uncle Art telling her he was coming down to 'oversee' the team while Talley was in the hospital.

"Little girl, I want to check out my new digs. If Chuck was half as generous with the carriage house as he was with the main house, it'll be a step up for me. How's he doing?"

She looked up at him and mouthed "Graham" and smirked. "Well, I've spent the past few hours with my head in his lap and his fingers entwined in my hair, how do you think he's doing."

She had to laugh as she heard Graham choking on whatever he'd been drinking as he imagined - .

"We're just relaxing, going over the details for Morgan Grimes' wife's funeral. She died in a freak accident and Grimes has been his business partner since Mexico and Chuck's helping him out with final arrangements."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear about his wife. Is Chuck handling things okay? I'm serious about this, Carina. I don't want anything going wrong while he's in the hospital or during his recovery."

"His sister's a doc and she's coming down for a while and then her husband's coming down later to oversee the operation for the 'family'. He's a cardiac man and will make sure nothing happens, if you get my drift."

"Good! I'll be down once you schedule the surgery."

The call ended and Carina tried to sit up but Chuck put a hand to her forehead and stopped her.

"Go back to sleep. We've got nothing better to do and I'm feeling really relaxed, honey. This reminds me of our early days in Mexico."

"Chuck, why do you keep bringing up Mexico?"

"Because I was really happy there with you. I mean it. The happiest I'd been in a long time."

"Oh. Well, okay. I guess I can understand that. I know I was happy too, Chuck. Happiest I've been in a long time. Sometimes I wish – "

"Yeah, me too, Carina. Me too."

* * *

Three day later  
The Beach at Charah House

"Chuck, I talked to Sarah yesterday before I flew down. She said to tell you that she loves you and prays for you. She wishes you would just let her come home, Chuck, especially now that you're going to be cut open like a turkey at Thanksgiving."

"Thanks for the image, Ellie. Good thing to have on my mind when I'm already nervous as hell about tomorrow. You know how I am about doctors and needles and – "

"Oh, hush, ya big baby. Devon's coming in tonight and Carina and I are going up to meet the plane. How's that going for you, by the way? I mean the Carina/Chuck thing? She really loves you, Chuck, probably as much as Sarah does. You're disappearance is going to kill her."

"I was thinking about that. I was toying with the idea of taking her along. I don't want her doing anything drastic, not that I think she would, and I'm afraid Art will blame her for my 'death'. Yeah, it's going to be hard on her but she's the professional. She's quite a girl and someday she'll find her 'Chuck' and she'll be happy."

"You're not serious about taking her along, are you?"

"I guess I didn't make myself clear. She's staying and will have to live with my 'death'. It's cruel and I love her almost as much as I love Sarah. I'll carry the guilt for a long time, Ellie."

Art and Chuck had a brief discussion and then Art and Carina walked over to survey the apartments above the carriage house.

"So, little girl, are you and Chuck getting along? Does he trust you?" He fixed her with a stare that made her wish Chuck was standing beside her.

"Yeah. We sat down the other day and went through his will, his properties and I got his Power of Attorney notarized today in the event he 'can't act on his own behalf' after the surgery. He thought of everything, every contingentcy, every 'what if' that I could imagine."

"Just hold his hand when he needs it. He'll come around. Walker tore him up badly and he needs someone to help hold him together until he can do it himself. Stay the course, little girl. It'll be worth it in the long run, you'll see."

Graham had unofficially notified all the CIA stations and substations to be looking for Sarah Walker and to report only her location if spotted. He would deal with his foster daughter in his own way without anyone knowing his intentions.

Morgan Grimes dropped by to see Carina and to thank her for everything she'd done to make Anna's arrangements so perfect. He looked a lot like Chuck had looked after Sarah departed.

"You're family, Morgan. You're like Chuck's brother so you're always welcome here, even if he's not here. Remember that, Morgan, if you need someone to talk to or just to be around other people. We're always here for you."

Chuck and Morgan walked down the beach and sat in an area the Chuck knew was a 'null zone'. The noise of the surf masked the sound of their voices making surveillance almost impossible. Still, both men sat facing the surf.

"It's all set, Chuck. I'm taking possession tomorrow and running down to the Keys to establish my cover. When you give me the word, I'll fly back here and we'll work our magic."

"Good. Listen, I won't be available much after they rip me open but if things go south, you get ½ the company. It's in the will. Family, dude. We're family."

Morgan started to cry and Chuck just walked away to allow him some dignity. He looked at the house on the bluff, all lit up and full of people he knew and loved and wondered if they'd ever be back together again in this life.

* * *

Government Medical Facility  
Unknown location

The team and Ellie, less Devon who was masked and gowned and overseeing the operation ( with a pistol in the back of his scrubs that he didn't know how to use but figured waving it around would work just fine) sat in the gallery and watched.

Carina left in tears after the surgeon made the first incision and the blood flowed. She couldn't handle it. She knew she was being foolish but she couldn't stand the sight of his blood. And there was so much.

Devon watched approvingly. This guy was careful, focused and extremely meticulous in his operating style. He never gave Devon a second thought. He just concentrated on his patient.

It took 4 hours but the operation went off without a hitch. Devon looked up at Ellie and gave her the 'OK' sign and then went to talk with the surgeon. There were moves he made that Devon wanted to learn or at least discuss. He was a pro in his own field and believed you never learned enough.

Ellie went outside 'for some air' while the team crowded into Chuck's room as soon as they were allowed. It had already been decided that one of them would be in the room at all times – just to be on the safe side. She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out the burner phone she'd used twice before.

"This is Serenity. Who's calling?"

"It's over and he's fine. No problems. NO complications and no probability of recurrence. Devon says the guy was a wizard and he couldn't have been in better hands. He'll be coming home in a few days."

"That's – such good news. I wish I could have been there…"

"Gotta go. You take care and keep the candle burning in the window."

That was a code that Chuck and Sarah had established to indicate that he would be arriving within 60 days. If she'd just said 'keep the candle burning' it would mean more than 60 days but less than 90. If she hadn't mentioned the candle at all, it would mean that they had to rethink the extraction and would be back in contact.

Sarah went to bed early and slept straight through until morning. It was raining but her smile when she remembered the good news she received was like sunshine.

* * *

Six weeks later

Chuck had just finished a brisk walk down the 1-A and was walking up the driveway to the house when he had an idea. He hurried up to the house and was a little winded when he made his way to the patio.

"Hey, guys, you've all worked pretty damned hard at keeping me alive so how's about we all head out to the boat and grill up some steaks and take a quick cruise down the coast to Miami? I need to get recertified with Agency anyway and afterwards we can hit a few clubs and be back day after tomorrow. Stand down ends next Friday so we'd better take advantage of our last free days."

Everyone except Carina thought it was a great idea. She'd wanted to drive Chuck down to the Federal Center and be with him while he got re-certified and then she'd planned on some serious alone-time in a hotel.

Chuck had seen her lack of enthusiasm and called her on it. After hearing her explanation he just grinned.

"Carina, it'll take a full night's cruising to get to Miami and I'm sure the team will have no problems with a little OJT on night cruising considering our possible mission."

She listened and she began to hope their minds were going into the gutter.

"Faith and Ron can handle navigation and piloting and then hand off to the others. We'll just have to crawl out of bed long enough to verify way points and send them back to their duties."

"Are you sure you're ready for – "

He cut her off with a hungry kiss and then whispered that he had ice cube trays stashed in the little refrigerator beside the bed and that he was looking forward to doing a little voyage of rediscovery of her most sensitive parts.

When her eyes glazed over he almost felt ashamed but he needed to lull the smartest member of his team into a false sense of security if things were going to work out right once they got back to Lantana.

The team enjoyed the steaks and beer and conversation. It was a classic team-building exercise and Chuck capitalized on their good humor by announcing that he and Carina were retiring for the night and that it was up to them to get the _Sprite _to Miami in time for him to make his appointment.

"Wait, Chuck. You can't just leave us alone to drive the boat to Miami. We don't know how – "

"Learn. There are charts under the pilot's seat already marked. All you have to do is set the GPS Nav and the throttles and the old girl will do the rest. One thing though, we'd better arrive exactly at 7:45am, not any later and not much earlier either. I might not always be around to pilot the _Sprite_ and I want to know that each of you can pilot the team out of trouble if you need to."

No one disagreed. His meticulous planning was a major factor in their success. Having his team thoroughly trained to fill his shoes made sense.

Chuck grabbed a couple bottles of beer in one hand and wrapped the other around Carina's waist and winked at Ron and dragged her down the companionway to their cabin.

She was already asleep when he finished showering just as he'd hoped. Candy was nice but liquor was quicker as the saying went. He'd avoided another night and another shovel-full of guilt.

He wandered up on deck, checked the settings on the GPS and the throttles, waved goodnight to Ron and Faith and went back down to his cabin. He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Chuck was awakened at 7:30 by Amanda who announced through the door that they were about to enter the Miami basin and that no one wanted to pilot the _Sprite_ in such narrow and crowded quarters. Sighing loudly, he got up, pulled on a pair of shorts and a pullover and went up on deck and smiled.

"Cheated death again. I'll make sailors out of you before too long. Excellent piloting! Now, if someone will throw some orange juice in a glass for me, I'll berth this tub and be on my way. Who's going with me?"

Amanda looked at her partner and shook her head. She was dead tired from being up all night. Faith glared at Ron when he dared to open his mouth and he quickly shut it.

"Okay then. Someone go wake up sleeping beauty with aspirin and coffee. My lady seems to have imbibed too much and she'll be surly this morning. I'll run in, get it done and someone can pick me up when I call."

No one objected and Faith handed him his orange juice and three pills and went below to wake up Carina. They'd done the coin toss and she'd lost – again.


	44. Home is the Sailor Home from the Sea

Miami Federal Center  
8:45am

"I'm here for a re-certification physical. Charles Talley. Director Graham set the appointment himself."

"Right this way, Agent Talley. You're expected."

He ran a cardio-stress test, did some breath tests, had his blood drained into a bucket on the floor, was probed, prodded, pinched, pumped and generally abused but he passed with flying colors.

"Agent, your heart is strong but you need to keep on the meds for another month. When the prescriptions run out, you're done with them. I have to admit that the improvement since your last visit is remarkable. Keep up with the exercise regimen you've been following. You can do everything you need to without reservations. You're good to go."

Chuck practically ran out of the building before anyone could change their minds about their decision. He walked briskly up the street to a pharmacy and purchased a go-phone and called Morgan.

"I'm good to go, Morg. Saturday afternoon. I'll delay departure from here until tomorrow. Has your crew been able to complete it's work?"

"Not quite. Your team has been sitting on deck and our approach is monitored. We'll need to do this in the dark, Chuck, to be certain no one sees us."

"We're going clubbing tonight. Take your time and do it right. No shortcuts. Sunday afternoon, Morg. Be in position Sunday afternoon. I'll drag ass and waste Saturday on some exercises. Make damned sure you don't screw it up. This is too damned important to me."

"Hey! This is Morgan Grimes you're talking about, CB. Okay, we'll double-check everything. No screw ups. Just be at the coordinates and for God's sake, make sure you're well clear of the _Sprite."_

The team on the _Sprite _was waiting for Chuck's call. They'd planned a big night on the town and it all depended on the re-qualification of their team leader.

Carina had the entire evening planned down to smallest detail. She would not drink and she'd spend the night seducing and bedding her partner. She'd conked out on him the previous night and was angry with herself.

Chuck dumped the phone in a dumpster in the alley and called Carina for pick up.

"Done. Come get me. I'm hiding in the alley beside the Center in case some asshat didn't get their quota of my blood. Tonight I'm going to have you, Carina, asleep or awake, understand? I've waited too long – "

"Fifteen minutes. No booze for me, Chuck. I'm designated driver for the group. Watch for me, honey. I'll be the horny redhead in the SUV."

* * *

By fate's design, they'd ended up at the same restaurant that the Yeminis had identified Carina and through her, Bryce. There were none of them around but it put a damper on Carina's mood.

"Dance with me, Chuck. Make me forget the last two years."

"Not all the past two years. We had some good times, Shorts."

He held her close like it was the last time he'd ever dance with her. "Why so tense, Chuck? You _do_ have a clean bill of health right? You're not lying to me or the team are you?"

"I'm fine, Carina. Just trying to forget about all the bad times and concentrate on the good times. You do know that there are laws against public indecency even in Miami, don't you?"

She laughed and held him tighter, smiling slyly when she felt his arousal pressing against her abdomen. "Someone's happy, Chuck. I am. Deliriously happy. So much has changed, Chuck, some for the better but most for the worst. I'll make you happy, Chuck. Just give me a chance."

He pulled her even closer, and he swore he could feel the beating of her heart. He leaned in and ran his tongue around the outside of her ear and laughed when she pressed herself against his crotch. He'd give her one night of happiness and then he'd be gone.

* * *

Aboard the MV _Sprite_

Chuck woke at exactly 3:30 on Sunday morning as planned. Once again he marveled at this internal alarm clock he seemed to have developed over the years. He untangled himself from Carina and turned off his alarm. He did marvel but he always had backup.

"Carina, the ship's on fire, the Cuban gunboat is closing in and we're in deep shit here. Wake up! I'm dead and you're in command now. The team is yours. Do something, Carina!"

"What! What the hell? Chuck – "

"Training exercise. We're going to do these a lot in the days ahead. Move it. Wake the others and assemble in the salon."

He addressed his team, hung over and bleary eyed, and laid out the exercise.

"You've been getting lazy, sitting on your butts watching me convalesce. I swam 5 miles a day and ran another 5 miles while you people sat on the patio and watched. We have a dangerous mission coming up and you're not ready for it, not at all."

"Chuck, what the hell – " Carina started to say something when he pulled a trank pistol from under his shirt and shot her in the stomach. He caught her before she could fall and injure herself.

"Oh no! Your team leader's been shot. There's a Cuban gunboat bearing down on you and the _Sprite's_ engines are down, probably sabotage. We're a few miles from the Keys and we can't be taken. What are you going to do? Remember, no one gets left behind." He walked up and out onto the weather deck and motioned for them to follow.

He chuckled to himself when they all looked aft to see if there really was a Cuban gunboat bearing down on them. He pulled a concussion grenade from his pocket and threw it far over the side.

BOOM!

The group flinched and looked disorganized and leaderless. This pissed him off. "C'mon, people. Think! You're drifting further and further from safety. Think!" He threw another grenade over the other side.

BOOM!

"You're bracketed. The next one's going to be landing right here in a few minutes. What are you going to do?" He was yelling, trying to instill panic and get them to think on their feet.

"Ron, you and Erik get topside and launch the Zodiac. Amanda, go below and get weapons and then find all the bottled water and throw it into the Zodiac."

He didn't want the senior people dictating the action so he shot Faith in the ass with a trank dart.

"Oh, no! Faith's down. Quick, do something!"

Amanda looked at him and then started issuing orders.

"Ron, launch the Zodiac. Erik, go below and get weapons and" she looked at Chuck who was tapping his finger on the first aid kit mounted on the bulkhead, "then throw them and the first aid kit into the boat. I'll get the water. One minute, that's all we have."

Chuck nodded in approval and then reached under the seat cushion and pulled out an MP-5 and walked over to the rail. Ron had the Zodiac tied up and the engine running.

"Ron, come aboard and get Carina and then Faith and put them both in the Zodiac." When he climbed aboard, Chuck put two rounds into the Mercury outboard engine and it died.

"Looks like you're going to have to row. Here's the deal. There's the Boynton Cut and up that way is the Lantana light. You're going to row the Zodiac up to the light and then up to the beach at Charah House. I am going to take the _Sprite _in to the Georges and berth her. Then I'm going to go eat breakfast and then drive up to Charah House. I expect you all to be waiting for me in the kitchen where we'll debrief. Understood?"

Amanda was heading for the rail when he stopped her.

"Stay with the team, Mandy. We need you. Don't even think of quitting. I have a job for you and it's purely voluntary but it's a personal request. Look out for Morgan for me if anything happens to me. Everyone else thinks he's my personal stooge, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Now, get yourself and your team home, Amanda Blaine. Become the leader I know you can be."

* * *

Chuck watched as his team disappeared into the darkness and waited 30 minutes before starting the engines and heading out toward the Boynton Cut at dead slow speed.

He programmed the autopilot and then went below to change into a wetsuit and retrieve his pistol, documents for his new identity and a rebreather. It was almost nautical dawn and he wanted to be at least a mile away before the sun began to rise.

Amanda kept running over what Chuck had said to her before almost shoving her over the side. She looked back but couldn't see anything in the murky light of the new day. She turned her back and resumed rowing. It was just a training exercise and they needed it. He was right. They were getting sloppy.

They rowed past the Lantana light. Another 5 miles and they'd be on the beach and then drinking coffee and bitching about their crazy team leader and his exercises.

Carina and Faith were both manning oars. The trank darts had been low dosages but it still pissed off the senior agents that they'd been tranked.

"I can't believe he did that. He could just as easily have said 'Carina, be quiet and listen but no, he's got to trank me and make me a casualty."

"He had good reasons. You saw how they were milling around waiting for me or you to tell them what to do."

"Doesn't matter. I hate it when he does that. He's going to get – "

A series of bright flashes rippled on the horizon to the south followed by the sound of booms that were delayed by distance.

The two agents looked at each other in sudden horror and told the others to 'head into shore. We'll run the rest of the way to Charah House'.

* * *

The Coast Guard conducted a thorough investigation of the 'accident' although it was impossible to send Coast Guard divers down to the depth the hulk, formerly known as the _MV Sprite_, rested on the bottom. They sent down Navy-provided ROVs with cameras to survey the wreck. Their report was irrefutable.

The _Sprite_ had been torn apart by limpet-type mines that breached the hull in exactly the same places the ones found by Talley had been placed. There was no possibility of survivors. The morning tide had most likely carried any remains out to sea or they'd been eaten.

Team Talley was no more. It was originally going to be broken up and the agents reassigned but Agent Hansen had made the argument that whoever wanted them dead was still out there and taking them out, one by one, would be easier if they were split up. Her argument won out and they were kept together for tasking.

The CIA's own internal investigation team came up with the following scenario: whoever had placed the original explosives had done it again, most probably while the _Sprite_ had been tied up in Miami. Several pieces of electronic equipment had been recovered by Navy ROVs after the Coast Guard had closed out there investigation. They were all of Eastern European manufacture and had probably been purchased by foreign interests on the black market or issued by unfriendly governments in an attempt to take out Team Talley. Their investigation was closed also.

* * *

6 miles south of the Boynton Cut  
2 miles offshore

He watched the fuel cell gauge like a hawk and kept his speed high enough to make progress but low enough not to exhaust the cell too rapidly. He didn't want to end up in the middle of the Gulf Stream floating around waiting to be picked up.

By his reckoning, he should be able to see the pickup boat right about now. He pulled back on the joystick and the nose of the submersible broke the surface. He could see a fishing boat right about where his pickup should be but didn't think it was his ride.

'Damn. Never planned on having company at the pickup site.'

He tasted the sharp metallic tang on his tongue that signified that the rebreather had maxxed out and was no longer capable of recycling. He had no choice now but to stay on the surface and hope for the best.

'_Maybe they won't see me and just poke along past me. It could happen.'_

But it didn't. The fishing trawler altered course and began blowing it's horn, a sure sign that they were on their way to 'rescue' him.

He racked his brain for a scenario that could explain his presence, the submersible, no accompanying dive boat, his pistol, all the things that screamed 'criminal activity' to the average civilian.

Chuck spit out the rebreather and considered his options.

He could 'appropriate' the fishing boat, beach it and then head inland. He rejected that out of hand. Stupid. Walking around in a wet suit wasn't an option. He couldn't take it off since he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

He thought about just shooting everyone on board but discarded it as soon as he'd thought about it. No more innocents.

Sighing, he waved towards the fishing boat as it came nearer. He toggled a manual switch that would flood tanks and sink his submersible and eliminate one line of questioning. He waved again and saw a man walk out in front of the pilot house and wave back, say something to someone piloting and then climb down a ladder to the main deck.

_'If there are just two of them and they have a Zodiac or lifeboat, I'll take over, put them over the side and head south. They probably have a change of clothes on board. The authorities will find the boat and return it.'_

The man on deck made some hand signals and the boat slowed and then almost came to a stop as the man threw a boarding ladder over the side and then stepped back and headed for the pilot house.

Chuck was tired and the tension flowed out of him and as he pulled himself up the boarding ladder, weariness replaced the tension.

"Permission to come aboard?" He'd at least try to act normal. He was pulling himself up the last rung and had latched on to the side rail to pull himself onto the ship when he got his answer.

"Permission granted." It was a woman's voice and she helped him over the rail and onto the deck. His mask was ripped off his face and the woman wrapped herself around him and kissed him enthusiastically.

He knew those lips, that tongue, those little growls coming from her throat – Sarah!

* * *

A/N: Almost the end. Epilogue fills in blanks and gives closure to those of you who've hung on through almost 3 years and two authors.

Oldest Man


	45. MiniMe Sarah and Friends

Epilogue Part 1

Fishing Trawler off the Florida Coast

When they finally broke their first kiss in what seemed like a lifetime, Chuck slid his hands around to Sarah's shoulders and pushed her away from him.

"Sarah, what the hell are you doing here? This was not the plan. You're supposed to be safe in San Pedro Town not sailing around the damned Gulf and up the Florida coast."

He was really pissed. Sarah was shocked at his reaction and looked at Morgan as if saying "Help me out here, Morgan."

"Chuck, calm down. You know this isn't good for your ticker, bro. I lost Anna and I didn't want you to lose Sarah so I pulled your Armageddon file and went deeper than the first level that we worked out. I found out where she was and I went and got her for you. We're tanked up and can reach the Caymans with fuel to spare and then top off and be in Belize. I'll sell the boat and 'return' to Lantana and pick up my life again."

Chuck advanced on Morgan who just stood there, willing to accept whatever Chuck did. He hadn't followed the plan but he could see the change in Chuck a little every day. He was stressed and he was walking a fine line and teetering with each additional step. It was only matter of time before he slipped and that would mean the end for everyone. Morgan did the same thing Chuck would have done for him were their situations reversed.

He cringed when Chuck reach for his neck with both hands and Sarah yelled at him to stop but Morgan relaxed when Chuck just pulled him into a bear hug and muttered, "Thanks, bro, for watching out for my best interests again."

Morgan told Chuck to 'take Sarah below' because they were heading into well-traveled waters and according to Chuck's datasheet, a NavSat was due overhead in 10 minutes. No sense giving the CIA or NSA any clues into the disappearance of Charles Talley.

Below decks the ratty fishing trawler had been converted into an elegant cruiser. Chuck looked at Sarah and grinned as she led him to a stateroom and then closed and locked the door.

"Don't be mad, Chuck. I had to come. Morgan said you were getting depressed and he didn't think you could pull off the cover much longer. When he showed up at my door I was afraid something had happened to you but when he said you'd set the date for your death and we just had time to make the pickup – I had to come, Chuck."

* * *

Two weeks later  
San Pedro Town, Ambergris Caye, Belize  
Rogers Villa

"Morgan, why don't you stay here a while longer? You know there's nothing back there for you. Stay here, please? Bob doesn't want to ask but I will. Stay."

They'd started using their cover names the moment they set foot on the dock in San Pedro Town.

"Can't, ah Serenity. It's not the plan. I have to go back home and breakup CharahCorp Int'l and then help Carina with the estate stuff. I'll come back from time to time, I promise."

"Make sure you do. Thank you for saving my husband, Morgan. He couldn't have done it without you."

"Hey, he's Han, I'm Chewie, Princess. Now, I have to get a move on. I need to be back in Lantana within 2 weeks. Let him sleep. I'll just cry if I have to say goodbye to his face."

* * *

October, Three Years Later  
Villa of Robert and Serenity Rogers  
San Pedro Town, Ambergris Caye, Belize

Serenity chased her 2-year old son around the verandah in a mad-cap game of 'catch me, Mommy' that he never seemed to tire of. Well, _she_ was tired and needed a nap and so did her son.

She scooped him up and blew kisses on his belly and laughed when he did. Life was pretty good and the only things she really missed from her old life were her friends and Ellie and Devon. They spoke on the phone with Ellie at random intervals and never using names but they did keep in touch using the email drops that Chuck had set up before dying.

"Your daddy's going to be home when you wake up, Tiger, and he'll want to play so you need a nap. Let _him_ play 'catch me if you can'. Mommy's tired."

Her husband, Robert, was in Belmopan doing some on-line trading and investing their various funds. It was a twice-monthly event since he refused to allow any direct contact via internet with anything established before his death.

She put her son down in his bed and sat with him until he fell asleep and then went into her own bedroom to lie down when someone rang the bell on the gate.

'_It figures. I get an hour to myself and someone comes calling. Probably one of the deckhands with some problem on the Chewie.'_

She hurried through the house and out the front door and opened the gate without checking, something her husband would get on to her about if he'd been home.

A young blonde woman of about 30 stood on the other side, holding a plate of something covered by a towel like an offering.

"Don't do anything stupid, Sarah. I have a pistol pointed at your heart. Let's step inside out of the sun and have a little chat, shall we?"

Serenity turned and walked towards the house, her mind storming through scenarios and options, none of them with favorable outcomes.

Amanda Blaine followed her into the house.

* * *

6 Miles from Ambergris Caye Ferry  
Belize

Bob Rogers cursed and tightened the last lug nut and lowered the jack and threw it into the back of the Jeep. It was the second flat he'd had since leaving San Pedro Town. He was glad he'd stopped and had the first one fixed or he'd be walking to the Ferry.

He glanced over at the big stuffed Panda Bear securely buckled up in the front seat of the Jeep for 'safety' and grinned. His son would surely love it and that was the main reason he'd gone into Belmopan, to pick it up.

The closer he got to the Ferry station, the more nervous he became. He'd survived this long because he'd learned to trust his 'vibes'. When they banged on his nerves the way these were doing, he paid attention. They were banging out 'Danger!'

* * *

Rogers Villa

Serenity sat down on the couch as instructed. Amanda looked at her with a genuine smile. "You've done well for yourself, Jenny. You, of all Uncle Art's girls, seem to have caught life's brass ring: a loving husband, money and a delightful little boy."

"How long have you known?"

She needed to _do_ something but they'd agreed to keep all firearms and knives out of the living room and away from their curious son. There were two locations where they were safely stored but neither of them was easily accessible from the living room.

"About a year. I found out purely by accident and when I did, I knew what I had to do. It took a year of my life but I finally got everything in order and, well, here I am. Have a cookie, Serenity. Morgan loves them."

* * *

Ambergris Caye Ferry

Chuck walked to the front of the ferry and fidgeted, willing the damned thing to go faster. His 'vibes' were rattling his cage badly. He had taken a 9mm from under the dashboard and tucked it into the back of his shorts and pulled his Polo over it. Now he had to wait.

'_I don't even know what the threat is. Is it limited to me or does it include Serenity and our son? Damn this piece of crap! Can't it go any faster?'_

* * *

Abergris Caye Ferry Dock  
San Pedro Town, Belize

The last two team members were in place. Depending upon the situation, they planned to allow their target to drive home and enter the villa's rear gate before making their move. If the situation changed from the original plan, they'd follow their secondary plan and join their other team mate at the villa and wait. Everything else was in readiness.

Now all that remained was the waiting.

A/N: In homage to APR - the ultimate cliffhangerer - a last cliffhanger.

OM for APR


	46. The End

Unless she writes it, this is the end of anything APR from me. Too much work.

For my friend and former trooper - Armadilloi 75th Rngr Bde

* * *

Final Epilogue  
Rogers Villa

Serenity choked out "Morgan – Morgan loves them?"

"Well, yeah. They're good. Nothing artificial, low in sugar, carobs instead of chocolate…try one. I promise they're not poisoned, Sar – I mean Serenity. Cool name. It fits you now, if you'd just relax and listen."

"Excuse me if I don't try one. I'm watching my waistline." She could be as snarky as the next person when she tried. Amanda blushed and touched her stomach.

"I'm 4 months pregnant. I shouldn't have one either. Oh, hell, I'll just walk around the Caye a few times tomorrow to work it off." She grabbed a cookie and bit into it, sighing. "You really should try one, Serenity. They're delicious. Just like – just like homemade."

Serenity caught the hesitation, the hitch in her voice and the sudden sadness.

"Just like 'mother used to make'?"

"No. Just like 'Cathy used to make'. Try one. They're made according to her recipe. UA gave it to me when I asked for it."

Serenity paused, suddenly realizing what the implications were.

"Y-you're one of us? One of 'Art's girls'?" Her reference to 'UA' gave her away. No one else referred to Arthur Graham as 'UA'.

"The last one. I was in deep cover when she died. I'm glad one of us was with her at the end. I always wondered how someone so nice could have loved and married that monster." She took the towel and patted her lips of crumbs.

"You don't have a pistol!" Serenity started to get up, intent on killing the last of her foster sisters for daring to threaten her family.

"Of course not! My husband would have a bird if he knew I still carried. I do, sometimes, when I feel the need but I've been separated from the agency for more than a year and I haven't really been in any situations that required it. I still have my knives though."

Serenity plopped back down of the couch, totally confused. "If you're not here to kill us, then why are you here?"

"We've moved in next door and I wanted to come over and introduce myself. Granted, it wasn't the way I would normally introduce myself but you do have a rep, Big Sis, for killing real or _imagined_ threats to your family."

"M-moving in? N-next door?" She put her head in her hands, thoroughly confused. She wished her husband was with her. He'd know what to make of all this.

"Yep. Me and my other half. You'll like him. He's sweet and caring and – and I really love him."

Just then Serenity's son made an appearance, wiping sleep from his eyes. He crawled up on his mother's lap and looked at her with bright blue inquisitive but sleepy eyes.

"He's got his father's curls but your eyes. He's – he's adorable."

"Yeah, but not when he's fully awake. He's almost out of the Terrible Twos but seems hell-bent on making the most of them." Her son curled up on her lap and played with the ties on her tank top.

"Morgan, say hello to your Auntie Amanda…can you say 'hello'?"

"M-M-MORGAN? You named him Morgan? Oh, my God. There's going to be no living with him now. _MORGAN?"_

"And just what's wrong with _Morgan_? It's a name with character and, and, strength. We named him after someone very dear and important to both of us. You remember Morgan Grimes from Lantana, don't you?"

"_Remember _him? Serenity, I _married_ him. I'm Amanda Grimes now." She looked entirely too smug, like a cat that'd just finished off a bothersome canary.

Serenity started laughing and couldn't stop. Morgan spotted the plate of cookies and looked up at his mother and figured he'd make his escape and steal a few cookies.

"Hey, Morgan? Want a cookie? Your mom's a little hysterical right now. Have one. Or two. Or three." She laughed when he stuffed one in his mouth and grabbed another cookie in each hand and tore off to the kitchen. He knew he'd get spanked if he ate in the living room.

"My God, Sar – Serenity! When he gets older he's going to be lethal to the girls. Those eyes, curls and that smile, God!"

"Yeah, it's his daddy's smile. I wish he had Bob's eyes though." Amanda thought for a moment and then figured out that 'Bob' was 'Chuck' in this new life of theirs.

They talked, mostly about the past but eventually about the here and now.

"So, why here and why now?" An honest question.

"Morgy thought it was – "

"Wait! _'Morgy'?_" She was trying not to laugh but the corners of her mouth were threatening to break upwards in a smile.

"Well, sometimes I call him Morgy but mostly it's Morg or Morgan."

"God, don't tell Bob. He'll use it all the time just to aggravate Morgan. But why here and now?"

"I separated from the Agency and we both wanted to start out someplace fresh and clean. Lantana had too many memories best forgotten. Morg-an missed his best friend and I thought 'why the hell not?' and so here we are."

"So how did you two get together?"

"Chuck ordered me to. I was just following orders, Serenity. The last ones he ever gave me – _'Look out for Morgan for me if anything happens to me'_ and something did. I had no idea that all this was just a clever ruse until Morgan and I started getting closer and closer and he caught me in tears over a picture of the team and swore me to silence and then told me all about the 'Great Escape'."

"Don't tell me it's all for the job, Amanda Blaine!"

"No! No, of course not. That's just how we got together. The rest was just – magic." She blushed but Serenity knew something about magic.

"Where is he? Bob's on the mainland but should be back any minute. Tell me about the rest of the team. How are they?"

"Morgan's finishing the last of the unpacking. I got tired and he told me to go find myself something 'easy' to do so – here I am, meeting the next door neighbor."

"And Carina and the rest of the team?"

"Carina – Carina took Chuck's disappearance hard. She wouldn't believe he was dead, not Chuck, not for one minute. He'd come through so much that she just figured this was one more thing to get through. She finally partnered with Erik and they went deep cover in Europe someplace."

"And Faith and Ron? Are they still in Lantana?"

"They base out of Charah House and run missions for the new director. They're happy. Amelia's thinking about retiring but she still hopes her _jefe_ will walk through the door some morning."

She knew there was probably a lot more to be said but she had been one of them once upon a time and knew not to ask more. She had no need to know.

"How's your husband's heart? No one talks about it. No one asks about it. Morgan says he doesn't know and we don't talk with Ellie or Devon directly anymore."

"It's fine, why?"

"Because he's about to get a surprise when he gets off at the Ferry Station and I was going to cancel it if he was having any problems."

"Surprise? I don't think that's a really good idea. He's become…unpredictable at times. Lately he's been waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Holy crap! I've heard about his 'unpredictable' actions from back in the day." She took out her cell phone and speed dialed a number and said, "Abort! Just come to the house." She listened a minute and then added, "No, we're talking, that's all. She knows about us, Morg, it just kinda slipped out. Sorry, sweetie."

Amanda disconnected and smiled at Serenity. "No problems. You're getting some more visitors and I think you need to go check on _your_ Morgan. He's very quiet."

"Oh, crap! He's into something then. MORGAN CHARLES ROGERS! What are you up to in there?"

There was a crash and a wail and both women went running.

Ferry Station  
San Pedro Town

'_Finally!' _He started the Jeep and drove slowly down the ramp, waving to the deckhand who'd become a 'ferry buddy' on his trips to and from the mainland. "See ya next month" was his usual line but something, no someone, caught his eye when the figure turned abruptly out of his line of sight. He hought knew that profile.

Rogers Villa

There was flour all over the floor and a crying 2-year old who'd dropped a glass when his mother had called out to him. He'd cut his hand and Serenity was running it under cold water and trying to get him to calm down enough that she could assess any other damage.

"Hey, our first aid kit is the first thing we unpacked, Serenity, since Morgan's undoing packing crates and he's…Morgan. Let's go over there and assess the damage to my new nephew's hand."

Morgan looked at his mother and sobbed 'Owie, mommy, owie', and Amanda thought about her own child and wondered if she could remain so calm if it were hers.

Little drops of blood dripped onto the floor before Serenity could wrap it in a towel and follow Amanda next door to her place.

"It's a wreck but we just started unpacking. So excuse the mess."

Serenity was struck with how ordinary and normal this scene appeared to be. Amanda seemed to be so normal and she supposed that she appeared that way to her. Still, it was weird but she just accepted it as she had so many other things in life.

"Daddy's going to kiss it and make it better after Aunt Mandy fixes it." This started another bout of wailing about an 'owie'.

* * *

Elizabeth Street

Bob drove slowly down the sandy lane towards his house at the end of Elizabeth Street. Technically it was a 'villa' by local standards but to him it was home. He waved to a couple of neighbors and stopped to chat with the town's single officer of the Belize Constabulary. He needed intel.

"Hey, Corporal, any crime waves to report in my absence?" It was a standard opening line for him. If the Corporal saw him first, his opening line was always "Are you going to make trouble for me, Yankee?"

"Ha! Mrs. Gorgonzola's damned goat got loose again and 'supposedly' got into Mrs. Frederick's garden again. That's about it. How was life in the big city?"

"Crowded, noisy, dirty, as usual. Good to be back home though. Any new faces in town?"

"Two new Yankees moved in, right next to you. Another couple of honeymooners staying at Hilton House, nothing much to worry about." Hilton House was the local Bed & Breakfast – the only bed & breakfast.

"Who's your passenger?" He gestured towards the panda.

"Present for Morgan. It's bigger than he is. Well, gotta go. I promise not to speed." That got him a laugh and a wave. It was good to be home.

He watched as a young couple walked away from him along the street towards the Ferry Station. They were tanned and fit and the man had his arm around the girl's waist and she had hers around his causing the shirt to ride up and reveal a grip of a pistol tucked into the back of his shorts. They quickened their pace when the man took a cell phone call. Then they disappeared between two villas.

'_Shit!' _He sped up, turning off between two large villas and down onto the sandy lane that ran between the walls that formed the rear of each property. He hopped out and opened the double doors and drove into his villa's 'back yard' and parked in his usual spot and relocked the doors. Bob unbuckled the panda from his place of honor and walked up onto the patio deck and his home.

Something had happened in the kitchen and his trained eye homed in on blood droplets and two sets of footprints in the spilled flour and broken glass. Two adult sets.

He reached into the back of the panda and pulled out his 9mm from his 'agency days' and silently went throughout the house looking for his family and praying that he didn't find them. It would mean that they were still alive and being used as bait. Well, he'd bite – and bite and bite until any threat was neutralized.

The front door was open and the occasional droplet of blood went out onto the tiled verandah. He tucked his pistol back into the panda and followed the trail out onto the sandy street and toward his 'new neighbors' place. The gate was open and he eased into the walled patio and took inventory.

The front door was wide open and the trail of bloody droplets led towards it.

* * *

Grimes Villa

"See Morgan, no more owie." Amanda finished wrapping the bandage around the toddler's hand. It was long but not too deep and didn't need stitches. She'd been shocked at how easily Serenity had handed over her child to her for first aid.

"Hey, it's not like your some stranger. Besides, he likes you. You're good with kids."

They were sitting on the floor and Serenity's back was to the door but she knew the growling voice.

"Let go of my son or so help me I'll kill you where you sit!" Morgan saw his father and struggled to run to him and Amanda held him to her instinctively. Serenity twisted around and saw her husband's face and knew it from the streets of L.A. and when he'd confronted Ellie about her drinking – Righteous Justice.

"CHUCK! It's not what you think, honey! Put down the gun, sweetheart, Morgan just cut his hand and Amanda was just – "

"Did I hear my name called?" Morgan Grimes walked out of the kitchen with a cookie in each hand and one in his mouth.

He saw 'Bob' holding the pistol and his hands shot skyward and the cookie in his mouth just stayed there. Bob was confused for a second. He'd never seen an 'adult' Morgan without a beard.

Ron and Faith had seen their old boss slip into the Grimes' gate and followed. As they crept up onto the porch, the surprise was theirs. Faith grabbed the pistol from Ron's waistband and shot her old boss in the ass with a certain satisfaction.

* * *

An hour later

"Wake up, Daddy. Owie." He was patting his father's face with his bandaged hand.

"It's okay, Chuck. It's just us." Morgan Grimes had been concerned and then angry about his friend being 'shot down like a dog' and it didn't matter that it was a trank dart.

He tried to get up but his son suddenly seemed to weigh a ton so he just laid back down on the sofa and closed his eyes and tried to make sense of his world.

"Owie, Daddy." He holds up the wounded appendage for a kiss and he manages a sloppy one that sends his son into paroxysms of laughter and suddenly he's gone, the Terrible Twos overwhelming any common sense the little gremlin might have developed.

"Are you okay with this, Chuck?" _This_ being his presence in his life again. Being here in San Pedro Town.

"I guess so, Morgan, but it's 'Bob' here and now. I'm still not used to seeing so much Grimes," he said, nodding towards his friend's face.

"Yeah, well, Mandy says it had to go, so it's gone. Listen, about Amanda, Chuck, it's Amanda Grimes. We've been married for almost two years and we're expecting little Mandy in 5 months or so. I owe you, bro, for sending her to me. She's incredible."

"I didn't _send_ her, Morgan. I just asked her to keep her eye on you because of Anna and all the crap that life threw at you all at the same time."

"Yeah, but she told me of your last instructions. I guess there's more to my charms than money this time." They both knew what he was talking about but neither explored Morgan's comment any further.

"Well, look who is finally back among the living." There was a tone to Faith's voice that rankled him. She had no right whatsoever to judge him.

"Now the question is, will we stay that way. If you guys could find us, that means _they_ can find us. I guess you'll have to get used to new neighbors, Morgan. We'll be out of here as soon as Serenity can get her run-bag together." They'd be gone within minutes of the end of this happy reunion. Both of them were ready. They were always ready.

"Chuck, no one is looking. Graham's dead. The CIA's internal report closed your file and somehow, before Art retired, all stuff related to the intersect got 'corrupted'. Only your team members know about you and we have no reason to rat you out."

"We missed you, Chuck. Carina wanted to keep a 'watch' order active but the new Director told her no. You were dead. The dead don't rise."

Morgan got a look on his face that Chuck recognized from before and laughed. "Morgan, no zombie parties, okay? At least not until you're settled in."

"Aw, Bob, you're no fun at all anymore. Is this what married life has done to you? Sucked the life out you?"

"No. It's given me an appreciation for the finer things. Like knowing she'll be beside me when I wake up and that the rug rat will be squalling for Cheerios first thing in the morning. 'Sun is up. Moon is down. Breakfast!' That's his good morning chant."

"Owie, owie!" Little Morgan had discovered his panda bear had a hole in its back and had dragged it over to Amanda to fix.

"Bob, what happened to the bear?" Serenity was giving him the 'stare'.

"I couldn't just parade around the town with a 9mm in my hand, could I? No one would look inside and I could always use it as a silencer if I caught up to the extraction team."

That brought a chill to the room. Sometimes they forgot just who it was that they'd been planning on surprising.

Bob looked around the room and then just shook his head.

"She's not coming, Chuck, er Bob. No one is. Carina and Erik are the new Chuck and Sarah sans Intersect. They're off someplace world-saving. She's not ever going to come. Sorry." Faith knew instinctively that he was searching for Carina but for all the right reasons. They'd been a team. It was only natural that he'd miss her.

"Don't be. As long as she's happy and not getting in over her head – "

"They come by the house on stand-down. Hell, she leases it to us for $100 a year. It's still hers and she still occupies the Master suite but other than those few times, they're gone on assignments. Right now they're tracking down some missing stuff."

Serenity sat down beside her husband and leaned against him and smiled. She did that a lot more since they'd come to this place and he didn't want to leave it. They'd talk about it in private later after –

"No, Chuck. We're home. We're still Chuck and Sarah but I love Bob and he loves Serenity and little Morgan. No more running. Besides, who'd run the Fund for the Town if you suddenly dropped out?"

"Morgan. He's got more financial smarts than I do. I'll bring him on as a co-manager. That way he'll fit in quicker and won't have as much time to get into trouble."

"Say, Ron, the local Constable told me there were two honeymooners at the B&B. Is that your cover?"

"Nope, no cover. Just the truth. We're probably going to follow Morgan and Amanda and put in our separation papers and then in a year or so, drop off the grid. Know anyplace like this that could easily assimilate two old spies?"

"Well, the bartender at the local spot Serenity likes is retired MI-6. There's a Russian émigré who swears he's KGB and runs the local chandlery. And the Corporal is NSA but he doesn't know I know and as far as I can tell he doesn't care who anyone is. He's sweet on a local and has no intentions of pissing in the soup."

"Then you wouldn't mind if we just popped in and set up housekeeping some day? Find a place in the sun and raise a litter of babies?"

"Family doesn't need permission, Faith."

* * *

After the party  
Rogers Villa

"I thought he'd never fall asleep. Morgan and Morgan together are going to be a handful to raise, my love."

"Well, it's about time he had someone his own age to play with. I'm too old for him. I'm no fun."

"He loves you. You're his daddy."

"I was talking about the other Morgan."

End


End file.
